From the Ashes
by unfocused-muse
Summary: He's had enough. Enough of the fighting, enough of war, of death of manipulative old fools and of hiding. He's going to do what should have been done a long time ago. He's going to bring the Wizarding World to its knees and make it remember.
1. Prelude

**Title**: From the Ashes

**Fandom**: Harry Potter

**Rating**: M, over all.

**Chapters**: 00/??

**Pairing**(s): Harry/Draco(main), other's to be announced (I haven't gotten quite that far ahead yet)

**Spoilers**: Everything up through OotP.

Please be aware that while this does/will contain spoilers up through OotP, I have made major changes to Harrys summer before 5th year and to the year itself. Ashes starts about 2 weeks after the end of 5th year, so that would be end of June, pos. beginning of July.

**Warnings**: Slash, creature!fic, character death, Dumbledore bashing. More to come as plot develops further, I'm sure.

**Summary**: He's had enough. Enough of fighter, enough of war, of death of manipulative old fools and of hiding. He's going to do what should have been done a long time ago. He's going to bring the Wizarding World to its knees and make it remember.

**Misc. Notes**: All major and pertinent information regarding this story can be found on my profile page. Links to photo albums and playlists, should I ever make them, will be linked to from there as well. Future chapters will not be headed as this one, and therefore will not contain the warnings and such. If you didn't read them the first time through on the first chapter, you probably won't read them at all.

This story is the first thing I've written and deemed post worthy in a very long time, and is the first thing I'll be posting under the 'Unfocused-Muse' user name. Please do not ask for the name I've posted under previously, as the account has since been deleted and all the stories that were on it have been archived for my own nostalgia. Sorry. This chapter will, as the story progresses, be updated with additional warnings and notes as needed. I apologize in advance to those of you who may put this on your favorites list and get update notices and yet no new chapters are posted. I feel that updating this section, as the story grows and accumulates more notes, will allow new readers access to all pertinent information without having to search for it. I do not yet know how long "From the Ashes" will be, so I ask that you all please bear with me. As mentioned on my profile I am a rather slow writer, and would like to keep myself with a buffer of one to two chapters before posting anything new. Slow and/or infrequent updates are, sadly, something I've always had issues with.

**Disclaimer**: I am in no way, shape, or form associated with J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and/or Warner Bros. and own no part in the Harry Potter franchise. I am merely borrowing her world and characters for the time being, claiming nothing, short of characters you don't recognize and the plot of this work of fanfiction, as my own.

* * *

**---**

**_From the Ashes_**

written by Unfocused Muse

**:: Prelude ::**

**---**

_If this letter has found its way to you then I've passed on. It's earlier than we'd anticipated, I'm sure, but the plans we made over the Christmas holidays should have been set in motion. The solicitor will get everything sorted and squared away, and help you get everything started; don't worry, you'll be just fine. I'm counting on you to bring the wizarding world to its senses, if not its knees, just like we talked about._

_While I don't know any of the specifics concerning my death, I do know that you're probably blaming yourself so stop it. Blame whatever curse or sickness that took me. Blame the caster, brewer or conspirator responsible. Don't ever blame yourself._

_Do not doubt yourself, or your new standing. Your family is with you, always. _

_Do not wavier in your beliefs. _

_Do not fight instinct- I've found it's normally always right._

_Do not be afraid to let others see you cry- it's not a weakness, Harry. It takes a strong man to know when he needs to lean on others._

_Do not be afraid to take a chance on love- if you can find it, grab it, and never let it go._

_Do not let Hogwarts forget that you are a Marauder, through and through, up to no good and full of mischief just waiting to be managed._

_You are a Gryffindor._

_You are the Boy-Who-Lived. _

_You are not just a boy with a scar, or part of a prophecy. _

_You are Harry Potter, the only son of Lily and James._

_You are a Slytherin._

_You are a force to be reckoned with._

_You are Lord of one of the most noble and ancient houses._

_You are Harry Black._

**_---_**

**To Be Continued**

**---**


	2. Pawn to King

**---**

**From the Ashes**

written by Unfocused Muse

**::Chapter 1::**

**::From Pawn to King::**

**---**

He padded down the stairs, stepping over the noisy floorboards with practiced ease, and made his way to the kitchen. The stone floor felt cold under his feet, but the room was warm enough, the embers in the fireplace casting an almost eerie orange glow through the room. He ignored the bit of magic that crept out to him as he walked in, pulled a few logs from the stack and set them to burning, hoping the renewed fire would take away some of the shadows in the room and pulled the kettle from its place on the stove, filled it and then put it on to boil. He wasn't quite sure what kind of tea he wanted, but knew it would help settle his nerves and let him sort through his thoughts a little easier.

The last few days had been hard, especially knowing that he was going to have a lot of explaining to do when the Order tried coming for meetings. He'd already talked to Remus, but he'd have to tell Ron and Hermione at least some of the details and he wasn't sure how they would take it. Hermione would be hurt that he hadn't confided in her sooner, and Ron Ron would take it much better. While he would tell him that he could've told them, trusted them with the information, he would understand why he and Sirius decided to keep it secret. Rons understanding of pureblood traditions and customs would be the saving grace in that. The tea pot whistled and he turned the stove off, pulling a mug from the rack above and then contemplated his choice of tea. Settling on a simple choice of Earl Grey, he went to the fridge for lemon, only to find that there was only bottled lemon juice. With a sigh he put two quick squirts in, followed by a single sugar cube, found a spoon and settled himself at the table before he heard one of the floor boards creak and a muffled curse follow.

"Harry-dear," Mrs. Weasley said as she tightened her dressing gown sash, "what're you doing up so late?"

"Couldn't sleep." he replied, taking a cautious sip of his tea. "There's hot water if you'd like a cup of tea."

"That sounds lovely, thank you."

Molly Weasley was by far one of the most important people in Harry's life, and he knew that she'd be disappointed that he'd been keeping secrets from the 'family'. She had welcomed him into her home, and made him an honorary Weasley, always ready to be the mother he never had. If it was within her power to give, she would, and if it wasn't she was going to do her best to find a way, just as she had for all her children. It wasn't right for him to keep this a secret from her. He watched as she made her tea chamomile with just a bit of milk- and shook his head when she made to sit at the table with him. He stood and caught her elbow with a hand, meeting her startled blue eyes with his soft greens.

"Why don't we take a tray up to the sitting room? It's bound to be more comfortable." he suggested, taking a trivet from where they hung at the back of the stove and placing it on an old wooden tray.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, worry finding its way into her voice, and she handed him a tin of biscuits.

"Yes, I think so. I just there's something I want to talk to you about."

"Perhaps this is a conversation you should have with Arthur, Harry-dear." she replied with a small smile.

"I doubt he's up at such a late hour, and I wouldn't want to-" at her raised eyebrow he stopped himself. "Oh! No, no, Mrs. Weasley, it's nothing like that. No girl troubles. This is well, complicated. It's about family."

He motioned for her to head up the stairs first and he followed close behind with their tea. She was undoubtedly wondering why he wanted to talk about families, and hoped she wouldn't think he'd gone and gotten a girl in trouble. He shook his head and chuckled at the thought, knowing how impossible that was, and as they entered the sitting room he noticed her little jump of shock as the fireplace lit itself. She turned to look at him as he set the tea tray down on the coffee table, looking pointedly at his hands.

"Does Dumbledore know?" Molly asked, taking her tea and settling in her favorite chair.

"About what I'm going to tell you? No."

"No, dear, about your wandless magic."

"Huh? I can't do wandless magic. At least I don't think I can."

"Then how did you light the fire?"

"I didn't, the house did."

"This is a very old, very pureblood house, Harry. It won't light up a fireplace for just anyone. Especially not for a witch that the family considers a blood traitor."

The fire flared and spit, tips of its flames going a bright spring green for a second before Harry sent a glare its way.

"I don't think the house will be giving you too much trouble. Not if it wants to keep its keystone in one piece." he growled and Molly's eyes went wide as the fire appeared to tremble.

Her jaw dropped every so slightly, color draining from her face, and the shock was easy to read in her eyes, making Harry wonder if maybe it had been a bad idea to tell her first. He settled in a large green leather armchair, and sipped his tea, waiting for the reprimand he knew was going to come. Little did he know he was going to be disappointed.

"So he went through with it then." she sighed, taking a sip of her own tea before setting it down and folding her hands in her lap. "Sirius mentioned it a few times, towards the end of last summer. He and Remus had a rather violent row about it and I remember being quite glad you children were in Diagon Alley when it happened. Remus thought he was crazy to even consider the idea and told him he'd have no part in it. He said he wasn't going to risk destroying the little bit of your parents they had left. Sirius replied, and I'll never forget those words, although I don't understand what he meant. 'It wasn't enough, Remus. The Blessing failed.' he'd said. Remus left shortly after, and I found Sirius, sitting in that very chair, staring off into nothing, later on that night."

"I take it you asked him why he and Remus had been at each others throats?"  
"Oh heavens no. It wasn't any of my business, nor my place to ask. I went and made him a cup of tea, set it beside him, then headed up to bed. When Remus and I returned after having dropped you all off at Platform 9 3/4 the following week he was gone, and I found a letter addressed to me on the kitchen table. He asked that I keep an eye on you while he was away and apologized for his behavior over the last couple of days. He returned, some time just after Halloween, and was back to his old self again. I don't know where he went or what he felt he had to do, but whatever it was seemed to be of great help to him."

"It was, yes."

"He found what he needed then. Have you completed the family's Rites of Passage?"

"There are two left." he looked down at the cup in his hands. "You're not disappointed, are you?"

"Disappointed? Why would I be disappointed, dear?"

"I was the last of my father's line, and I gave it up. I've run from my responsibilities as a Potter. Left the fami-"

"Harry," Molly interrupted, "my mother-in-law told me something me shortly after Arthur and I married that I didn't understand until years later, after I learned she had been a Black. She said 'Family is more than the blood in our veins, and worth more than the pride we have in our name.' Sirius and James were only brothers at heart, but at times you would have sworn they were blood-kin."

"Would dad understand this, do you think, Mrs. Weasley?"

"I believe your father would be proud that you considered Sirius family enough to take his name, and disappointed if you had refused to do what you knew was right simply to keep the Potter name. You are of two families now, Harry- it is your decision what name you give your children."

Harry frowned. He'd taken the Black name given up Potter- so how could he be of two families? Molly just offered him a small smile at his confused look.

"Sirius obviously didn't explain well enough." she said, sipping her tea. "When a woman marries she gives up her old name for the new one. If a man chooses to take his brides name, and has the consent of both his and her family, he undergoes the bride's family's Rites of Passage. If the daughter is of high standing, normally first or second born, he would become Lord or Master of the family, effectively keeping the family's wealth and standing in society from slowly dying out. It was not uncommon for men from large families to take the family name of their bride should she be from a smaller family, regardless of wealth. For example, let's say my Ronald was to marry your friend Luna. She would become a Mrs. Weasley, and the Lovegood line would end. However Ron is my sixth son, and he knows that the family is in good hands with Bill and Charlie, so he may ask to take her name instead, therefore keeping the Lovegood name alive, while at the same time doing no disservice to his own name. If, for some reason, his family was doing poorly, say instead of sons his brothers were having daughters, Ron could pass the Weasley name to a son who could then become Lord of the family. It's a very old practice, and a rare occurrence in modern times, as our population and views on marrying lesser blood have changed. "

"So when I have kids, say my first two are boys, I can name one as first born Black and the other as first born Potter?"

"Yes, although they need not be so close. Your first child could be a boy, and you name him as a Black. You could then have two Black daughters and another Black son before having a Potter son. It is your choice."

"Sirius never mentioned it. He said when all the Rites were finished, I would be Black in name and in blood, provided the last Rite takes properly."

This time it was Molly who frowned. She had heard of families having certain Rites that could change the family magic of a witch or wizard, but they were exceedingly difficult to perform and considered amongst the strongest of blood magics, therefore classified as dark magic by the Ministry.

"Just how many Rites have you done, Harry?" she asked.

"Eight." he replied. "Name, Intent, Age, Joining, Passage, Honor, House, and Title."

"Which leaves Memory, and that could prove problematic for you, not being born a Black and all that. I don't remember a tenth, but the Weasley family only has the first eight. Our secrets, tho' they're few, are written and bound by blood, not hidden in it, so we have no need for a Rite of Memory."

"I'm not sure what the tenth is either. Sirius said it was one of the family secrets, and only when the Rite of Memory was completed would I know what I need to do for the last one. He did say it was very old tho', and wouldn't be easy. For the most part the others were a piece of cake. You don't think Sirius was wrong for wanting me to do this, do you, Mrs. Weasley?"

" Sirius Black was a good man, and despite what his mother's portrait may say, I do believe he has only ever wanted what is best for his family, and more importantly, what's best for you. He would not have come to the decision to make you his Heir and thus the head of his family lightly and without great consideration for you. Rites of Passage need a great amount of planning done, especially for such an old family. This was not something he thought up on a whim, and you should have faith in yourself, Harry-dear. Sirius obviously did."

The clock struck two a.m. and Molly yawned in response. She'd not realized how long they'd been talking, but they were both in need of sleep. She stood and set her cup on the tea tray, and as she straightened up found herself pulled into a tight hug. She smiled and returned the gesture.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley." Harry said.

"We all need a little reassurance some times, dear." she replied, pressing a light kiss to Harry's forehead and patting his cheek as he pulled back. "Now, off to bed with you."

Harry knew he wasn't going to be falling asleep any time soon, but also knew that Molly would hear nothing of him staying up later, so he faked a yawn and nodded, then set his own tea cup on the tray. He made to pick it up, intent on returning it to the kitchen, but it disappeared with a pop. Molly took him by the shoulders and led him out to the stairs, and bid him goodnight.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Weasley." he said, trudging up the stairs, avoiding the two squeaky steps before the first landing.

Now Molly Weasley, being a mother of seven, knew that he wouldn't be going to sleep any time soon, but the fact that he went without a fuss told her plenty. Harry Potter was a smart boy, although he often acted to the contrary, and she knew that there was much more to this heir business than he was letting on. Rites of Passage were not easy to perform; they were extremely intrusive on a wizards magic, required a clear head and an open mind, and, for a family as old as the Blacks, were very long. Yet Harry had said they were 'a piece of cake'. Yes there was definitely more to this than he had said.

"Molly," she thought, heading up to her own room, "you just keep on as you always have, and be there when he needs you. He'll tell you when he's ready."

- - -

The next morning came all too quickly for Harry, as he had only gotten to sleep about three hours before the sun decided to wake. His body, however, had decided to agree with the suns' decision to get up and after trying to fall back to sleep for the last half hour he finally got up. He'd had a chat with his house elves in the early hours of the morning, and they had decided it was time to move.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes with a loud yawn, stood, stretched and rotated his shoulders and neck, sighing as a few vertebrae popped back into place. A quick glance at the clock told him it was quarter to seven, and he picked his wand up from the bedside table before making his way into the ensuite bathroom. A shower would help to wake him up, and with what he was planning for the day he would need to be on his toes.

"No time like the present." he thought, watching his reflection as he cancelled the spell he'd placed on his hair over Christmas break.

What was a short, thick and unruly mop of dark hair was now almost shoulder length, cut in a few layers to keep some fringe over his scar. Although it was a relatively simple style, he thought it worked well with facial structure, and it would certainly help with the new image he was going to give the Boy-Who-Lived. He was going to have to do something with his eyes, and while he could get away with a correction spell for the morning he thought a trip into Diagon Alley was in order for the afternoon. It would give him a chance to start a few rumors and get things rolling. He knew this would be a big shock to his friends, and more than likely cause them to have a bit of a falling out because he didn't trust them with it sooner, but he had to do for himself, and on his terms.

The shower started on its own, steam quickly filling the bathroom and he chuckled as he finally noticed how the vanity was laid out. Instead of his old comb (that was missing far more teeth than it had left), he found an ivory and bronze brush, along with a small bundle of leather ties. A black tooth brush replaced the old Oral-B he'd had, as well as a bronze handled razor (not that he planned on using it- magic was easier and cleaner). A fancy bottle of after shave that he remembered Sirius had liked as well as a small dish of ivory, black, green and bronze colored soaps sat next to the hand towel, and he had to smirk at the snake embroidered on it. His night clothes vanished as they hit the floor and he stepped into the hot spray of water with a hiss, trying to rub the sudden goose bumps away.

"Bloody hell," he thought, "I must be really cold, or the water's way to hot."

There was low hiss and the water temperature adjusted to a point that wasn't quite as shocking, and Harry hummed his thanks. The shampoo, conditioner and soaps in the shower were very clearly labeled with their scents and he had to chuckle at the few smaller bottles that were strictly for cosmetic purposes. He showered as quickly as he could, loving the squeak his hair gave as he rinsed the last of the shampoo out, and he contemplated conditioner, but decided against it. With a curt nod the water stopped and he stepped out, grabbing a warm, fluffy towel to dry with. The drying spell that was woven into the towel was a surprise, as was the bronze robe that hung on the back of the door.

"This wasn't here when I walked in." he said, fingering the family crest. "Thank you."

He felt the house give its equivalent to a nod and smirked as he pulled the robe on, the warming spell taking effect immediately.

"Time for this pawn to become King."

**---**

**To Be Continued**

**---**


	3. A State of Mourning

**---**

**From the Ashes**

**written**** by Unfocused Muse**

**:: Chapter 2 ::**

**:: A State of Mourning ::**

**---**

Since her eleventh birthday, and subsequent introduction to the Wizarding World, Hermione Granger had seen many amazing and wonderous things. She had also seen her fair share of terrible things. Nothing, however, had prepared her for what she was currently whitness to. As the library clock struck eight in the morning, Number Tweleve Grimauld Place grew cold and dark, almost seeming to moan. The bronze curtains in the library turned black, and all the candle flames started to burn a deep green color. The ivory and bronze scrolled wall paper greyed. A few of the portraits in the library gasped, then began murmuring to themselves, some running to other frames to keep quiet. She got up and made her way out to the hall, only to find it dark.

"Mrs. Weasley!" she called, running down the hall to the sitting room where she'd left the older witch with her tea and the morning Prophet.

Molly's eyes were wide, a hand over her mouth as she watched everything darken, however her expression was not one of worry, but rather that of awe. Hermione put a hand on Molly's shoulder, startling her out of her daze, and was quickly rushed out of the room towards the stairs.

"Quickly, child," she urged, "go change."

"Change?" asked Hermione, confused. "What's going on, Mrs. Weasley? Why's the house gone dark?"

"No time for questions, Hermione-dear. Go upstairs and put on the darkest clothes you have. If you don't have anything approprate I sugguest wearing your school robes."

"Mrs. Weasley, what's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"The House is in a state of mourning, dear. Now go change, before the Lord comes down for breakfast."

"I don't understand. What Lord, and how can the-"

There was a tapping at the window, and Hermione gasped. A barn owl, carrying a large black envelope. Even she knew that wasn't good. Molly opened the window, but made no attempt to relieve the owl of its letter.

"You're welcome to wait here for the Lord of the House, if you'd like." she told it, "He should be down any moment."

The owl winged in and perched itself on the back of Harry's favorite green chair, fixing Hermione with a stare that sent shivers down her spine. It was then that she noticed Molly wore very dark colors. Browns and greens so dark they almost looked black. In the darkness of the house even her bright hair looked darker. Her own jeans and pale pink blouse looked very out of place, and she flushed.

"Go up and change, dear." Molly said, patting her on the back. "You'll get all the answers you seek after breakfast, I'm sure."

Hermione nodded and headed for the stairs, only to trip as Mrs. Black's portrait started screaming.

"Out! Get out of my house! Nasty, disgusting girl! Such colors! DISRESPECTFUL WRETCH! Mourning! My House is in MOURNING! Uneducated swine! SUCH COLORS!! Filthy mudblood!"

"That is enough, Mrs. Black."

Hermione looked up from where she had fallen and felt her jaw drop. She knew the boy no, he looked more a man than a boy- standing before her, but at the same time didn't. His hair was too long, and far too tamed. His eyes weren't hidden behind glasses like they normally were, and they were harder than she remembered. His robes were the biggest difference, and she knew them from the portrait of Sirius' grandfather that hung in the library. Tailored black pants and a deep green shirt with elbow length sleeves under a black robe with dark bronze lining. There was a very familiar crest acting as clasp for his cloak, with ivory, bronze and emerald fleurettes linked to it, and she felt her blood run cold. She knew who she was looking at, but couldn't believe it.

"You will mind your tongue, Walburga Black, if you wish to remain hanging in that spot." he said, fixing the portrait with a glare.

"You don't have the balls to remove me. My son did not and-"

A flick of his wrist and Hermione saw an orate knife in his hand, tip pressed to the portrait's throat. The portrait swallowed thickly, and Hermione's brown eyes widened as a thin trickle of red made its way down beneath the neck of Mrs. Black's blouse.

"I am Lord of this House. I can and will cut you from your frame, should the mood suit me." he growled, and the top left corner of her frame splintered as the house moaned. "You'd do well to remember that you are long since dead, Mrs. Black, and be thankful that you're Sirius' mother, for it's the only reason I haven't had you and your frame reduced to kindling."

He turned away from the portrait and brushed past her in a flurry of ebony and bronze, seeming to never see her. Mrs. Weasley, who'd watched from the bottom of the stairs, gave a small curtsey as he decended.

"Harry?" Hermione dared ask.

She felt as if she'd been stripped and then smacked, the way his eyes narrowed as they looked at her. The disapproval in those eyes hurt more than any physical blow.

"I'll overlook your impropriety this time, Ms. Granger, because you don't know what it means for the House to be in mourning, but I suggest you go change before coming down to breakfast." he said as he turned away. "Good morning, Mrs. Weasley."

"Good morning, Lord Black."

Harry chuckled and took Molly's hand just as he heard Ron and Ginny come running down the stairs. She flushed as he kissed her knuckles and then gasped as the house gave a small push.

"You made me an honorary Weasley, " Harry said, "So I now make you and your family honorary Blacks. No formalities between us, Mrs. Weasley."

"As you say, Harry-dear." she smiled. "Please call me Molly."

"As you say, Molly. You will inform your family for me?"

"Of course. Your solicitors' owl arrived not long ago."

"Thank you. I'll take breakfast in my study, if you'd send it up?"

"Very well. May I include Ms. Granger in the explainations? I fear you've upset her greatly."

"You may."

He turned to look back at his three friends and took a steadying breath.

"I apologize in advance for my behavior, and ask that you try to understand. I'll take audience with you once I've concluded my business."

He held an arm up and gave a little whistle, the barn owl screeching as it flew out to take the offered perch. Hermione barely held her tongue as he walked past and into the study. If it weren't for Ron's hand on her shoulder, fingers digging in almost painfully, she was sure she'd've blasted him.

"Who does he think he is, talking to me and to you, Mrs. Weasley- like that!?" she hissed, turning to stomp down to the kitchen.

"You need to go change, Hermione." Ginny said, catching her friend by the arm. "You heard him. He'll overlook it this time, which is saying something, but next time he sees you, you should be in mourning clothes."

"It's Harry, for Merlin's sake! Where did he find those robes, and how can he dare to presume to wear the Black family crest? He's "

"The new Lord Black, Hermione-dear. Ginny, take her upstairs and get her into something suitable. Ronald, you come with me. When you're done, girls, come to the Burrow. I'll only explain this once."

"Right." said Ginny, dragging Hermione up the stairs, "Let's go."

Hermione found herself dragged back up to her room before she could so much as think of a reply, and as the door lock clicked her brain finally caught up with her surroundings. It was just in time to see Ginny whirl around and make for her wardrobe, and to take in that she was wearing dark colors the same as Mrs. Weasley had been.

"Ginny, what in the world is going on?" she asked, shimmying out of her jeans and into the knee length black skirt that was flung at her. "I don't understand."

"Didn't you read a book about Pureblood traditions and customs last year, Hermione? I thought you'd gotten one from the library."

"I did take it out, yes, but forming the DA and taking on Umbridge cut into my personal reading. I didn't get to read half the things I'd wanted to."

"You should have made a point to read it." Ginny handed her a white blouse and stomped her foot when she couldn't find a dark shirt to go with it. "Damn. You have nothing in here that would be considered mourning clothes."

"I hadn't expected a funeral when I packed for school."

"Not a funeral, Hermione, mourning. There's a difference. When Cedric died, we were all given black ties to replace our House Colors, because we were all the same: in mourning. It's the same here. If the Lord of the House the head of the family- puts the House, both figuratively and literally, into a state of mourning, the family and all persons in the house itself are required to dress appropriately. When the state is lifted we can dress any way we choose. It's an old Wizarding tradition, not just for Purebloods. I would have thought you'd have known."

"Muggles don't have things like this. Well, I suppose we do, but not quite to this extreme. We have a wake, sometimes with a service, and then the funeral. People talk about what they remember about the deceased, stuff like that. Some people grieve for long periods of time and wear dark clothes for a while, but there's nothing like this."

"This is a learning experience for you then. Harry will probably be busy with paperwork most of the morning, and won't be letting anyone into his study until he's done. If he's been named the new Lord Black then he's got a lot of planning to do."

"Planning? For what?"

"Most families have a wake, much like you're familiar with, but the old families the Weasleys included- have a meeting of the family first. This could be a luncheon, or a dinner, anything really, but it is always very formal. The new Lord addresses the family and its concerns, and any contesting of the deceased's Last Will and Testement would occur then. Whatever can't be worked out amongst the family then is brought before the solicitor for an impartial opinion and all the legal aspects would be taken care of, although that is a rare occurance today. The Blacks are very old, and very few in number, so he's probably going to plan a formal dinner. Not an easy task, especially if you're not familiar with the people attending. Mum seems to know better what's going on, so I'm sure we'll get more information once we get to the Burrow. Here. It's not quite dark enough but we can charm it to a deeper shade for the time being."

Hermione caught the loose knit shawl Ginny tossed her and watched as it's pistachio green changed to a deep olive. Neither of them knew any permanent color charms, but the few hours they got from this one would have to be enough. It could always be reapplied if need be. Ginny set a pair of mary janes out for her and tried to fine a pair of stockings.

"I don't have any." Hermione told her, slipping into the shoes, "Put a run in my last pair as we were getting out of the cab."

"Hermione, you're a witch! Just fix it with a quick reparo and you're done."

"Yes, well, I hadn't anticipated needing them, and they were quite worn in a few other places, ready to run or tear."

Ginny sighed and opened the door as Hermione finshed buckling her second shoe. It was the best they could do on such short notice. She motioned for her friend to be quiet as they made their way down the stairs, only to find Ron waiting at the bottom. She sent her brother a questioning look to which he just shook his head and motioned for them to start down the hall.

"Everything alright?" whispered Hermione.

"Mum says to head straight to the Burrow. I'll follow you in just a minute."

The girls nodded and turned into the reception room, each taking a small handful of floo powder, and in a few seconds were gone. Ron however made his way to the study and gave a nervous knock. The lock clicked open and a "Yes?" from the other side eased his nerves.

"Forgive my interuption," he said, "but I've been-"

"No need to be formal, Ron. Come in."

"Thank you. Mum just wanted me to tell you that we're all going to be at the Burrow. She doesn't want any of us to be in the way while you're trying to get things sorted."

"Tell her I said thank you. I'm sorry for earlier. It's just there's a lot I haven't told you. I really can't tell you anything, at least not yet. I'm afraid Hermione may never forgive me for this morning."

"It was quite a shock, seeing the house go into mourning, but, and I pro'ly should have said something sooner, I have noticed the change in you. What we saw this morning, we'll be seeing it a lot more often from now on, yeah?"

Harry had set his quill down when Ron entered the study, and had to give his friend a small smile. He'd worried about how to tell them that he'd changed, in more ways than he was aware of, he was sure, and here Ron had seen it, and kept quiet. When he'd convinced himself that his friend's pureblood upbringing would be beneficial to his telling them what had been going on, he never imagined it would be like this.

"Sirius and I talked about a lot of things last summer. Put a few plans together, I did a _lot_ of research and more than a little thinking. A large part of what I'm going to tell you and your family later is probably not going to sit well with you. You mother already knows some, which she'll tell you when you get home, but there's more. Most of it isn't nice, and some of it's kind of ugly, but all of it is now part of me. I can only ask that you trust me to know what I'm doing, even if you don't like it."

"Harry, you're my best mate. We've been faced with more crazy shit than most adults, You-Know-Who and Death Eaters included. If we can stand by you through that, I think we can manage this. Might be bumpy and hard as hell, I'm sure I'll lose my temper, Hermione will get indignant and think she knows best, we may not speak for days, or weeks or Merlin knows how long, but we'll manage."

Harry knew, in that moment, that he had seriously underestimated Ronald Weasley, and he was proud to call him his best friend. He stood and clapped a hand on Ron's shoulder, and nodded, both to the boy in front of him and the house. Before he could respond, Ron felt something push magic at him. Magic that was both familiar and foreign, but not unpleasant. A slight tingle from his right hand told him that the magic had done something, and he gasped when he saw what it was.

"H-Harry?" he studdered, looking at the bronze and obsidian ring that adorned his hand.

"I told your mum that the Weasleys were now honorary Blacks, but you're the first to get your key to the house."

"I can't accept this, Harry. You haven't had the family here for the reading of the will, it's just not-"  
"I'm Lord, and will do as I see fit. Until I've delivered the other keys, yours will have a heavy concealment charm placed on it. Only one of Black blood will be able to see it. Now, you should probably get to the Burrow, before your mum starts to worry."

"Yeah, but really, I shouldn't accept this. At least not yet."

"I haven't activated it yet, just given it to you. You're welcome to leave it here and I'll send it to you when I send the others, if that's more agreeable?"

While he may not have been book-smart like Hermione, Ronald Weasley wasn't stupid. He could hear the shift from Harry Potter to Lord Black in his friend's voice clear as day, and it didn't leave any room for argument. He'd be getting the ring whether he took it now or later, so what was the point in refusing the gift? If it had been anyone but Harry he would have seriously offended them by not taking it, and his mother had raised him to be polite. He clapped Harry on the shoulder much has had been done to him, completing the magical circit that was apparently still open between the two of them and the house, and felt it click shut. The ring heated for a brief second before going cold, warming to his body temperature slowly. Upon closer inspection he noticed that the eyes on the it looked like lion but he couldn't be sure, had become rubies instead of diamonds.

"It's all explained in the letter that accompanies the other keys. You can use the fireplace here to floo to the Burrow."

Ron knew he'd been dismissed, but took no offense to the tone. With a nod he turned to the mantle and grabbed a handful of floo powder. He wasn't looking forward to the family gathering half as much as he was the explainations that would come with it. Especially if it turned into a debate or argument like he knew they very easily could, considering the Weasley temper. A quick flurry of green flames and a sudden "woosh!" had him stumbling out of the fireplace with a bit of soot on his face and more on his robes than he liked, only to get hauled towards the kitchen by a pair of strong arms.

"Where the hell've you been? We got mum's summons and came straight away, yet you dally!"

"Charlie! Leave your brother alone." Mrs. Weasley shouted. "Everything alright, Ron?"  
"Uh, yeah, mum. Harry says he'll send word when he's gotten everything sorted out."

"Thank you dear. Your grandparents should be here shortly, go out and wait for them to apparate in, would you Ron?"

"Sure."

Charlie cuffed Fred upside the head for trying to slip some of their newest candy creations into the dish on the coffee table while Ron stepped out into the front garden to wait for Grandma and Grandpa Weasley. He wasn't sure why his mother had called them in, as normal family meetings were merely the immediate family, but if he had to guess it would be because their grandmother had been a Black before she married their grandfather. The pop of apparition startled him out of his thoughts and he straightened himself as his grandparents started up the walk from where they'd appeared.

Septimus Weasley was a tall, lanky man, and had not aged nearly as well as his wife. His nose was too large for his face, which, in truth, had never been overly handsome; when they were little he and Ginny used to liken his face to that of a blood hound- his ears (much like his nose) seemed too big for his head, and his cheeks were heavy, sagging under his eyes a bit and looking like jowels around his mouth and chin. His once ginger hair had faded to an odd shade of white, looking yellowish in the right light, and had thinned considerably. He always had a pair of thick lensed glasses hanging around his neck, but often required prompting to put them on, and when he did they were never straight. As Ron took a good look, he could tell that the summoning had been unexpected, because his robes were very askew and his shoes and belt didn't match. And they _always_ matched.

Time had, however, been much kinder to their grandmother, Cedrella. While he and his siblings had always been told that she was very mature looking for her age, you would never know she was soon going to be turning 81. Like most old people, she had wrinkles, primarily around her eyes, but she had not changed much since she was in her mid sixties (or so their mother had praised). She wasn't a tall woman, and had a bit more weight to her than she had in her youth, yet she walked with her shoulders squared, back straight, and head held high, as was fitting for a woman of her breeding. Her once dark hair was salt and pepper now, much whiter "wings" on either side of her head, and cut to just below her ears. The ever present ivory hair combs kept the front out of her eyes (save a few well placed strands) and it was only now that Ron really noticed the obsidian and peridot that sparkled on them were set in bronze. He didn't know what the flower was, but had seen the same flower, also ivory and bronze, not fifteen minutes prior, on Harry's robes. Unlike her husband, her robes were pristine, and a deep brown. The look on her face told Ron all he needed to know: she knew.

"Pop." he said, shaking his grandather's hand. "Don't touch the candy."

"Those two at it again, eh?" Septimus chuckled, shouting a hearty hello as he walked in.

"You've seen him."

It wasn't a question, and Ron could only nod as he offered his grandmother his arm. She took his right hand and looked at the ring that had felt all too heavy when they arrived.

"This is most unusual." she said, frowning at the rubies. "Red is not a family color."

"I don't know any more than the rest of the family, Nan. Well, not really."

"I suppose we're in for a surprise then, aren't we? You sit next to me, dear. I have a feeling we're going to be the most level headed when he makes his first move."

"What makes you think he'll do something today? He just got the solicitor's owl this morning, not long before we left, actually."

"Oh, just call it a hunch, dear." She patted his hand and they walked in, steering clear of Septimus and the twins and heading for where Arthur, Bill and Charlie had Fleur cornered.

Ron smiled as he recalled the uneasy first visit she and Bill had made for Boxing Day. Their mother had no idea that her oldest son had been seeing someone, let alone someone foreign, and had no idea how to react to the news. Instead of trying to explain the story of their meeting, they had decided to just show it, and used a complicated series of charms that made the memory appear much like a Muggle movie, or so that's what Hermione and Harry had likened it to.

There had been some sort of problem with an inheiritance, certain artifacts that had attacked the wife of the new owner, and Bill had been called in to try and rectify the problem. His skill as a curse and hex breaker had gained him a reputation amongst the wizards and witches that worked for Gringotts, and even the goblins had started taking notice of his talents. He'd taken a portkey to London, then to Paris, and had half a day to kill before he needed to be at the Gringotts branch the artifact was held in. The family had not been forthcoming with what the object was, and they didn't know why it was lashing out at the poor man's wife, which had not been of much help to him. Bill liked going into a situation knowing what he was more than likely going to be up against, which meant having the necessary objects or ingredients to satisfy the curse or hex. Upon arriving at Gringotts, he was escorted to a small conference room, one of many that were often utilized by solicitors or other professionals that would require the bank's services for either themselves or their clients, and introduced to the Lawrence family. He'd been given their permission to accompany them to their vault, and whitness first hand what the object did to the wife. And see he did. A violent blue, lightening-like magic surged from the object and headed for the small, dark-haired Mrs. Lawrence. Bill said it was all too obvious to him what the object was and what it was trying to tell the man.

"It's very old, and most definitely Veela made. It's worn just below the breast and was probably a gift for a clan daughter's Molting Day. Once it's put on it cannot be removed, at least not by her, and will grow or shrink as necessary. Without examining it I can't say for certain what's on it, but it has contraceptive properties the girl would never carry a child that was not that of her mate- as well as a few other sexual charms. If," he said, "I am correct and you are of Veelan decent, it is recognizing your wife as it would the mate of a pure or half blooded Veela, and trying to do what it was created to do."  
"My wife has no need for a- a chasity belt, Mr. Weasley. We have been married for nearly three years, and are expecting our first child." scoffed Mr. Lawrence.

"Expecting her first child, not yours, Mr. Lawrence. The primary purpose of a Band of Fidelity, as they are commonly called, is to ensure that the girl does not give any child to a man that is not her mate. There is nothing I can do to this object, as it is in perfect working order. Good day."

He turned and headed for the cart that would take him back up, only to have the next cart already occupied. Fleur had been at her own vault two doors down, and had called for a cart when Bill had started explaining the Band to the Lawrences. By the time it had arrived she'd overheard the entire thing, which would have been considered eavesdropping, had they noticed her standing there and watching, and Bill was looking for a cart as well. She motioned to share the one, and he took it.

"You are knowledgable of Veela traditions, for a wizard." she said.

"I worked with a wizard mated to one for quite a while. Hard not to find the culture interesting when you get to watch a Courting."

"His bride did zhe-"

"Husband."

"Pardon moi?"

"His husband did the Courting."

"Ah. Did zhey marry in zhe traditional sense?"

"No. Zach thought a traditional marriage would be insulting to his new family, and refused it, although James told him time and again that it was perfectly alright."

"James? St. Clair?"

"Yes, you know him?"

"Oui. 'e iz my cousin! I was at zhe receiving party zhe family threw for zhem." she held her hand out. "Fleur Delacour."

"Bill Weasley." he shook her hand.

"Weasley? Any relation to a Ronald Weasley?"

"My little brother. How do you know Ron?"  
"I was the Beauxbatons champion at the TriWizard Tournament. Ronald helped save my little sister."

From there it had turned into dinner, then lunch a day later, and soon they were seeing one another. It had shocked Ron to see her sitting in his living room when they'd returned from King's Cross for Christmas, but it certainly wasn't an unpleasant surprise. Bill had written him once or twice, asking what he thought their mother would say if he told her he planned on marrying Fleur, and he had to say he was happy for his brother, and that it would, after she'd gotten over the speed in which they moved from dating to engaged, their mother would be too. Their grandmother, however, had not had a chance to meet her.

"Ah, William." Cedrella smiled, kissing her grandson's cheek. "You have not yet introduced me to this lovely young lady."

"Hello, Nan." replied Bill, taking Fleurs' hand. "Fleur, this is my grandmother, Cedrella Weasley. Nan, Fleur Delacour."

"Eet is very nice to meet you, Mrs. Weasley? Or would it be Lady Weasley?"

"And I you, my dear. Molly has said such wonderful things about you that I'd started feeling a bit left out, having not met you myself. And no, my sister-in-law, Bill's Aunt Gladys, has the honor of being Lady Weasley, thank Merlin. If I were Lady I shudder to think what might happen to my gardens, what with all the time I'd spend settling all the family arguments."

Ron smiled and clapped his brother on the back. When their grandmother started talking about her gardens with newcomers, it was always a good sign.

"Why don't you come with Ronald and I, dear? I'd like to learn more about you. You are related to the St. Clair clan, are you not?"  
"Oui, zhat I am, Mrs. Weasley."  
"My dear, do call me Nan. I simply cannot stand all the formalities. I fear we will be using them soon, so better save it for when it's needed, yes? Now, do you know Regina St. Clair? How I miss her. I was an exchange student to Beauxbatons in my sixth year- had an aweful falling out with my father- and Regina's family hosted me."

"Regina St. Clair is my grandmother."

"Is she? Oh, this is wonderful. Where might I send an owl to her? It has been far too long since we've talked."

It was then that Ron realized his grandmother was up to something. The sparkle in her eye was the same as the twins when they thought they were getting away with a prank against their mother, and it could not have been a good thing. Thankfully a gong charm went off, and his job as escort was over as everyone started filing into the kitchen.

There were tea cups at each person's seat, the steaming tea pot, a pot of coffee, some cookies, muffins, scones, pumpkin juice, milk, sugar, and that was it. He knew his mother had been cooking, but none of it was on the table. Which meant she wanted to have the meeting before serving breakfast, which in turn meant she knew things were going to get rowdy and possibly break the dishes. With a sigh he nodded to his father as he, Bill and Charlie walked in, and pulled out a chair for his grandmother and another for Fleur. She was apparently going to sit on their grandmother's right and he on her left. Septimus and the twins came in a moment later, and Fred sat Ginny between himself and George. Hermione took the seat on his right, next to Fred, and he nodded at her in what he hoped would be a reassuring way. She had been worried when he stayed behind at Grimauld Place, and he'd scarcely caught more than a glance of her when he'd arrived at the Burrow, so he hoped she'd understand that he was fine and that all was good.

"Alright, alright," Molly said, "settle down. There's tea and coffee on the table, and a bit to munch on if you're all too hungry to wait, but we have a very important issue to discuss."

"You used the clock, mum." said Fred.

"We all came as soon as we got the message." added George.

"So whatever it is must be important." Bill stated, eyes settling on his grandparents, "Especially if you've called Pop and Nan over too."

"Yes, well." Molly had never been nervous with her family, but this was big, and she wasn't sure exactly how to go about starting the meeting. "I do believe your Nan knows why I called you all here."

"Indeed." replied Cedrella, nodding to her daughter-in-law. "Sirius Black is dead, and the new Lord of the House of Black has put it into a state of mourning."

Arthur and Charlie were on their feet, their fists had clattered the tea cups when they struck the table, and the shouting began. Fred and George started arguing with Hermione and Ron about what they knew, Septimus asked his wife why she hadn't said anything earlier, Arthur was demanding to know how Molly had come to this information and who the new lord was. Bill and Ginny exchanged looks with Cedrella and Fleur, and as Bill made to stand up, a loud screech interupted the arguing. A large Great Horned Owl winged in and settled on the back of Ron's chair, a small package tied to its leg. The glittering bronze seal on the brown paper was answer enough about who had sent it.

"I think it best," Cedrella said calmly, "if we all sit down and see what the Lord Black has to say to us. Perhaps all the answers we seek are in the package. Ronald, if you would, please?"

He untied the small box and offered a bit of orange-cranberry muffin up to the owl in exchange, and then broke the seal. A flurry of sparks errupted from the broken wax, all in the colors of the Black house, and before Ron could pull the contents out, small envelopes darted out, landing neatly before the person they were addressed to. They were all the same brown paper envelopes, each sealed with the Black family crest in bronze wax, their names written in a pearly white ink. A black envelope, the same size as the others, fluttered and shook as it made its way to the center of the table, and everyone knew what it was. There was no other use for a black envelope, unless it was for funerary purposes. It was when it started to speak that everyone really sat up and took notice, however, and Ron bit his lip to keep from smiling, because they didn't recognize Harry's voice.

"_As the new Lord of the House of Black, I extend invitation to what will be a private service for the late Lord, Sirius Black. The service will be held on October the thirty-first, at a time that has yet to be determined. A formal, written invitation will be sent prior to the service with a time and place. All those that will not be able to attend I ask please respond to those invitations as soon as possible._

_This is not an easy time for me. The death of the late Lord, Sirius Black, is personal to me. I was not anticipating taking on the responsibilities of Lord for quite some time, despite the actions that were taken and plans that were made to make sure I would claim the title should Sirius die an early death. Hence the informality of this letter, and the the letters that should sit before you. I am well versed in the proper ways that this should be handled, however those who know me know that I have never done things properly. _

_I _**have**_ changed, physically, emotionally and mentally, since most of you saw me last, and for that I _**will not**_ apologize. I feel that I am stronger than I was, and that I will only get stronger the more I continue to learn about my family and its past. I am not a child any more, despite my age, and I will not be treated like one. I was not raised with the traditions and customs most wizards and witches are, and while I know of many and believe in more than a few, there are some that I very much disagree with. My beliefs will shape the future of my family, _**whether they like it or not**_, into what _**I** _envision for it. The noble and ancient house of Black will not fade away, nor will it be taken down without a fight. I will no longer allow myself or my friends and family to be used as a tool, or as a sheild. I am done letting people think that I'm a hero for something I did as an infant, or things I survived merely by having good information, people to stand behind me, and more importatnly luck. I plan on shaking the very foundations of the wizarding world. I intend to make the world _**remember**_ where it came from, and how it was made, and I am giving you all a fair warning: those who try to convince me to do anything other than what I want, simply because it does not fit into the image they have of me or it's not something they agree with, _**will be considered against me**.

**The Order of the Phoenix is no longer welcome in my home**_. I still believe in what they fight for, however I question their leadership and the ulterior motives he has. Save a select few, aside from yourselves, they will be refused entry to the house, should it appear for them at all. I ask that you keep this knowledge to yourself, until such time that I have informed the Headmaster of the change. If I am correct, he will attempt to contact me this afternoon, so you may not need to keep the secret for long._

_You accepted me, made me an honorary member of your family. Today I am doing the same, regardless what the rest of my new family will think. _

_The envelopes before each of you contain a letter, and a stone. Obsidian for the men and peridot for the ladies. These are your keys to Grimauld Place, allowing you access to the house, both through the floo and direct apparition. Place the stone in your wand hand when you open the envelope and read your letter. The magic of the stone will determine, from your own magic, the shape it will take. The activating phrase is contained in your letters, and need only be thought, directed at the key. The house wards are currently set not to accept anyone, key-bearer or not. You will know when the wards have been unlocked and you are welcome to visit. As so not to startle any one, the keys also have a summoning charm, which works very much like the Weasley clock. They will grow warm first, then vibrate, and if I should deem the summoning urgent, it will port you to me. I sincerely hope there is never a need for me to use it in that way, but it is there. You need not do anything now; open your letters and create your keys at your leisure. Please also be aware that despite having keys to Grimauld Place, you will be unable to escort any of the Order into Grimauld Place unless they are one of the few I have keyed into the wards. Should you attempt to bring an unapproved guest into my home without prior approval, you will find yourselves returned to the Burrow._

_Now, I believe I've kept you from your breakfast long enough, so Molly, if you'd be so kind, break out the eggs, kippers and toast, and I will see you all soon._

_Your honorary brother,_

_Lord Harold James Black_"

The envelope started to twist and crumple itself, until it had taken the form of what looked like a dog. It barked happily twice, bowed down on its front legs and then POOF. A quick puff of black smoke that had no smell and it was gone. No scorch mark on the table, no ashes, nothing. The Weasleys had been left speechless.

**---**

**To Be Continued**

**---**

A/N: I understand there was a great deal of information in both this chapter and the previous one, so if anyone has any questions, feel free to ask. I have a bad habit of putting too much detail into something to try and explain it, only to screw the explaination up. I understand it, but that doesn't mean my readers have. Also, my writing time is limited in the summer work is extremely busy this time of year. I do have the next chapter written and in the process of being proofed, but expect updates at a relatively slow rate, maybe a chapter a month.

As always, comments and questions are not only appreciated, but encouraged.

~Muse


	4. Invitations

_**NOTE**__: This is not a new chapter. I have merely replaced the crappy Google!German that I'd used with proper German, thanks to SilverEyes11. The translations haven't changed, the language is just now written properly._

**From the Ashes**

**written by Unfocused Muse**

**:: Chapter 3 ::**

**:: Invitations ::**

With a sigh he ran a hand through his hair and set his quill back in its holder on his desk. The last of the paper work had been signed, the Family Ledger had been updated and resealed, and the all the letters to the family had been written. A wave of his wand had the black return envelope packed, ready to return to the solicitor, and he felt a fair bit of tension leave his neck and shoulders as he pressed his seal into the bronze wax.

The crest at his chest, and on his right ring finger, had glowed ever so slightly when the letters to the Weasley family had arrived at the Burrow, and he was anxious to know what they thought of it. None of the individual letters had been opened, or if they had no-one had made their keys yet. If he had to describe the feeling he got from the house, it was a mixture of nervous and joy, much like he thought an expectant father would feel, pacing infront of the delivery room door. Long had Grimauld Place just sat, collecting dust and a few nests of nasty, invasive doxies, waiting for its Lord to return and give it purpose. Give it a family to guard and protect. He smiled and sent a comforting wave of magic down towards the foundation, to which the house gave its own version of a smile.

"Soon, my friend, soon." he said, stretching as he stood up. "We have things to take care of before they arrive next month."

He handed the black envelope to the barn owl that had been waiting rather patiently on one of the many perches in the study, wished it a safe journey and watched as it winged off towards its destination. The small stack of letters on the corner of the desk vanished with an audible pop, and a moment later one of the house elves appeared, nervously wringing his hands in his tea towel.

"Dobby is sorry to interupt Lord Harry-sir." it said, not looking up from the floor.  
"I've just finished; what's the problem, Dobby?" he replied, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear.  
"Kreacher is not agreeing with Dobby on the menu, Lord Harry-sir. Kreacher is fighting Dobby."  
"Is there something wrong with the menu? I thought it was rather well put together."  
"It is, it is! Dobby knows it is! But Kreacher says that Kreacher knows best for the House of Black, Lord Harry-sir!"

Taking a deep breath and counting to ten, Harry attempted to calm himself. He had a feeling something like this was going to happen.

"Kreacher, come here please." he called, and not a moment later the second house elf appeared.  
"Lord Black calls?" the old elf asked, bowing a bit.  
"Why are you fighting with Dobby about the menu? I left him in charge of it."  
"Kreacher knows the House of Black. Long has Kreacher served the Lords and Ladies. Kreacher will-"  
"I left Dobby in charge for a reason, Kreacher. He was in the service of the Malfoys before I freed him, and as such knows how they would expect things prepared and presented."  
"Kreacher prepared Mistress' meals when Mistress was a child! Kreacher knows what to do!"  
"I don't care. Dobby, prepare things as we discussed. Kreacher, you will take care of the house. I want it absolutely pristine when my guests arrive. Unless absolutely necessary, you will stay out of Dobby's kitchen until the evening is over or your help is requested. Do you understand?"

Kreacher glared at Dobby, but nodded his acceptance before disappearing. Dobby beamed up at Harry and popped himself back to the kitchen, leaving the young Lord Black to himself. A quick look around the room told him there was nothing else overly pressing that needed attending to, and with a smirk he decided a quick trip to Diagon Alley was in order.

He'd changed out of the formal robes of the Lord of the House of Black, into something a bit less extravigant. He kept the tailored black pants and dragon hide boots, but settled for a long-sleeved, white french cuffed dress shirt. The cufflinks on his shirt were simple ivory, bronze and peridot eidelweiss flowers, complimenting the engraving on his belt buckle. He'd left the first few buttons undone, showing off the Black crest he wore around his neck on a charmed leather cord. It could not be removed by anyone but himself, and anyone who tried would find their fingers rather burned. It would change thickness and length depending on what he desired, and he'd had quite a bit of fun playing with it after Sirius had given it to him.

He'd forgone robes in favor of a long dragon hide vest. It had no collar or sleeves, but hung to his calves, split in the back up to just below his waist. The front was fastened with only one of the five small buckles that adorned it, keeping from flying away and making it move impressively. The lining was spelled to change colors depending on his mood: in its normal state it was a deep green, when he was angry it would turn bronze, sad would make it black, and a happy or joyous state would turn it white. He could of course turn the charm off, like he had for today (leaving it plain black because of the state of mourning he'd placed the House in), but watching people's expressions when it changed colors all on its own was amusing.

The only other thing he made sure to do was wear his earrings and put a shine to his hair. Small, simple, silver hoops adorned his ears, a diamond stud in his right cartilage, and his hair was pulled half back. The fringe at the front hid the scar well enough, and kept some sunlight out of his eyes as he stepped through the barrier into Diagon Alley. The reaction was immediate as he took his first few confident steps into the sunlit alley: the sea of people stopped and stared, some pointing and whispering, while others quickly got out of his way. He kept his head high, shoulders squared, and eyes forward, just like Sirius had taught him, and paid the masses no mind. He made his way towards Gringotts, ignoring the increasing volume of noise the whispers and quickly spreading gossip, and nodded, almost imperceptible, to the one familiar face in the crowd: Neville Longbottom. He made a mental note to send a letter to his fellow Gryffindor when he returned to Grimauld Place.

The doors to the wizarding bank opened of their own accord as he approached, and just like out in the alley, the patrons parted. The scarlet and gold clad goblins that lined the expansive hall bowed ever so slightly as he passed, and he smirked at the pleased look on Griphook's face as he stepped up to the Vault Services desk.

"Lord Black." the goblin said, inlining his head politely.  
"Griphook. I'm sure you know why I'm here." Harry replied, pulling a slim rolled parchment from an inner pocket.  
"Indeed. If you'll follow me."

He was led down a long hall off the main room, and into a rather cozy room. The carpet was thick and glittered like it was laced with gold, off setting the deep red plush couches that sat at an angle to the mahagony desk. The walls were filled with books and rolls and stacks of parchments, viles and bottles of various things (the charred hand in a jar or grey-ish liquid caused him to raise an eyebrow in question), and it reminded him very much of the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts. Griphook settled himself behind the desk, sorted a few folders, and picked up a quill before motioning for Harry to take a seat.

"Your godfather was quite thorough in his planning, Lord Black." the goblin told him, making a few notes, "I will of course need to add your blood to the vault wards, and have to have new keys made. Will you be allowing anyone other than yourself access to the vault?"  
"Who currently has access?"  
"A Mr. Remus Lupin, a Ms. Nymphadora Tonks, the Black's solicitor, Madam Brunhilde Mayer, has limited access, and there was a key assigned to the late Lord's brother, Regulus Archurus Black, that hasn't been turned in. Albus Dumbledore has access as well, although it is restricted to-"  
"Remove Dumbledore from the list. In fact, remove all but Remus. The family tree shows Regulus as being deceased, but if that key has found its way into the wrong hands, I'll not have them gaining access to the vaults. Dumbledore is to be removed from the Potter lists as well. I want no-one to have access to that vault except for myself."  
"A wise choice, young Lord. Records show that both Ms. Tonks and Mr. Lupin have not used their keys in quite some time. The solicitor has only used her key to discuss options with me, as is expected in such situations. Regulus' key was used just before Christmas when he was in his last year at Hogwarts."  
"Is there anyway to track keys, Griphook? Can we find where his key is? Sirius mentioned that he'd been a supporter of the Dark Lord, and I'd hate to have it in their possession."  
"Under normal circumstances, yes, however it appears that the key was placed somewhere untracable. Your godfather said to leave it where it was- somewhere in Scotland."  
"Which means he knew exactly where it was and it's now a family secret. Now, let me ask you, Griphook, if I wanted to right what I feel a serious wrong in regards to a Black woman that married out of the family –against the wishes of the rest of the family- would it be acceptable to compound the years intrest and add it to the purse?"

* * *

A pale, perfectly manicured hand reached for the day's post as the house elf bowed low and held the silver tray for her. She replaced the Daily Prophet, as she didn't bother reading such rubbish, as well as the invitation to the Parkinsons annual summer party. Peony already knew she would be attending. There was a letter from the Ministry she'd have to reply to, and a large envelope from the family's solicitor, which she had been expecting. She dismissed the house elf with a sigh and a wave of her hand, reaching for the ornate letter opener that sat displayed at the front of her desk, only to be interupted by the appearance of a second house elf.

"Yes?" she asked, clearly annoyed.  
"Mippy is sorry, Lady, but this just arrived."  
"If it was not with the morning post, then it will wait until tomorrow. You know this, Mippy."  
"Yes, Lady, Mippy knows, but… it bears the Black seal, Lady."

The letter opener clattered onto the desk as blue eyes widened at the sight of the ivory envelope and bronze seal. It as an invitation, that much she knew. There was no mistaking the feel of Black magic on it. She took the letter with a shaking hand and broke the seal. The magic that washed over her was both foreign and familiar at the same time, and she wracked her brain trying to think of who was in a possition to send such letters.

"Thank you Mippy." she said, dismissing the elf, who smiled and disappeared.

The parchement she pulled from the expensive envelope was simple, plain even, and while the penmanship was decent, it was obvious to her that the writer had not been properly schooled. Her nose wrinkled at the thought.

"_Dear Lady Narcissa Malfoy –nee Black,_

_You and your son, Master Draco Abraxas Malfoy, are hereby invited to a formal reading of the Last Will and Testament of the late Lord Sirius Black. You are to please arrive the First of August, at precisely Three O'Clock in the afternoon, at Number Twelve Grimauld Place, London. _

_Magical means of arrival and entry to the house are currently restricted, so make your travel arrangements accordingly. _

_Should you require it; rooms will be provided for you. _

_No R.S.V.P is required; you've opened the letter, therefore you will be attending._

_I will not tolerate prejudices and the like in my House. If your son cannot mind his tongue while in my home, he will find it removed. You will very quickly find that I am not at all like the image the world has painted of me, and there is nothing I won't do to keep my family safe and happy."_

She smirked at the bit of anger that had flowed into the ink. Apparently the new Lord of her old House didn't care for her son. It wasn't until she read the last line of the letter that she realized why.

" _Immer rein und niemals ängstlich. Wir sind bedeutender als das Haus der Malfoys. Es ist Zeit, Narzissa, dich zu erinnern wo du herkommst. _

_Bis wir uns treffen._

_Lord Harold James Black." [1]_

Her hands shook as she set the letter down and sat back in her chair. She had, for years after her sister had gotten married, insisted that she have a child that could bear the Black name. Their aunt would certainly name one of them as her heir, because Sirius had been such a disappointment and blasted off the family tree. When Walburga Black died, however, it became known that their uncle, Orion, had taken it upon himself to refuse the Lady of the House the right to name her successor. Had it written in blood, and none of them were able to contest it. And so the title was held by his first born son, who was unable to maintain order in the House while in Azkaban. They had hoped that his incarceration would have allowed the family to name a new Lord or Lady, but the court had overlooked it, thus it laid in trust for his heir. An heir they didn't know existed. Oh how they had underestimated Sirius Black.

"Mippy." she called, and the house elf appeared at her side. "Inform Master Draco that I wish to see him. Immediately."  
"Yes Lady."

As a Black she had learned a great many things that most of the old families had lost to time. When she married Lucius Malfoy she'd been pleasantly surprised that the family had kept excellent records, and many of the traditions she grew up with her new husband had as well. She taught their son as much as she could about how a pureblood family should act, and how they shouldn't. She knew her son was spoiled, and clung to the prejudices her husband had preached, wearing the cold mask that his father expected of him, but she also knew that beneath all that he was a bright young man. She knew that he was hiding things from her, because he feared being discovered by Lucius and of how his father would react, but she wasn't blind. Behind her own masks, she hid a great deal. But if her cousin had used the Rites of Passage to name his heir… if Sirius was willing to trust the secrets to his godson… if this boy could handle being a Black, then maybe she could be herself…

A knock at her study door pulled her from her musings and she beckoned her son in. His nearly shoulder length blonde hair was pulled half back with a black leather tie, a few strands falling loose and into his steel-colored eyes. As she looked at him she let what little Black magic she could use safely go and saw through the web of magic that had been over him since the end of his third year. Her eyes narrowed when she saw that his aura was dimmed everywhere but his abdomen. She pushed a little more and her eyes slid closed as she sighed, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose. She should have known.

"Mother?" he asked, eyes full of concern. "Are you well?"  
"Sit, Draco." she said. "I have just received our invitation to the reading of Sirius Black's will."  
"He was a fugitive; shouldn't the Ministry just confiscate all the Black holdings? Of course we would fight for it, but-."  
" My cousin has made it very difficult for the Ministry to move against the family. He named an heir."  
"I didn't think Black had any children."  
"No biological children, no. He did have a godson."

Draco was quiet, trying to remember who it was, only to jump out of his seat as bright green eyes flashed in his minds' eye. His mother gave him a small nod and a smile, and handed him the invitation. He read it quickly and tossed it back onto the desk with a snort of annoyance.

"Potter." he growled. "Harry bloody Potter!"  
"Draco…" warned Narcissa.  
"What right does he think he has? None! He has absolutely no claim or tie to the family! The house will surely reject him! It will never let some half-blooded fool in. Great Aunt Walburga must be-"  
"That is enough."

It wasn't a shout, but the hiss of irritation that accompanied the simple statement was enough to stop his tirade. Grey eyes were wide as she stood up, and he could have sworn he saw her eyes glitter darkly.

"You have hidden behind your masks too long and I will no longer sit back and let you carry on with such behavior. Your father is in Azkaban, Draco, and can do nothing to you. From now on you will behave as your station demands, and I suggest you start now. No son of mine will be introduced to the Lord of the House of Black while hiding behind cloaking magics and pretending to be someone he's not."

He took a few steps back, stumbling into one of the end tables and over turning a crystal vase full of lillies. A quick flick of her wand and Narcissa righted the table, catching the vase with a simple levitation charm, but Draco ended up on the floor. She extended a hand to him, but he refused to take it.

"How long have you been able to see through it?" he asked quietly, getting up.  
"Had I not respected your privacy, I would have seen through it long ago."  
"How long, mother?"  
"Only since you walked in the office."  
"Do you think… does father…"  
"If he did, he has yet to say anything to me. It is my understanding that the Malfoy family stopped receiving Gifts at least two generations before your grandfather was born. He would have had no reason to suspect that you had been granted one."  
"Why did you look?"  
" For many years I have played the role your father expected of me, like you have done, but it is not my true self. It is not how I truly feel or how I would like to express myself, and I am tired of maintaining the façade. If we are to meet the new Lord, we cannot be caught off guard, nor can I be seen as having forgotten that I am a Black."  
"Did you ever wonder if I'd been given a Gift, mother? Did you know what it was before I did?"

She was quiet for a moment before taking a deep, steadying breath.

"Your birth was very hard on me, in all ways. Your father refused to allow me any kind of pain killer, or for you to be delivered via caesarian section; he told me 'all Malfoys are born into this world naturally'." Narcissa started pacing before her desk, wringing her hands nervously. "There was a great deal of screaming, cursing, and pain worse than the Cruciatus, making forty-seven hours seem like an eternity, but when I finally held you, and you opened your eyes at me, I knew that you were the most important thing I would ever do. Did you know that your father wanted to name you Caspian?" she chuckled, "I wasn't going to allow Lucius to end a long standing Black tradition, and used what little strength and magic I had to name you. He was furious with me, but nothing would change it. The Black magic had already marked you as one of its own. It took him nearly six months to finally understand that while you may be a Malfoy by birth, you are a Black in magic, and because of it you are my heir. So yes, I knew there was a strong possibility you'd receive a Gift, but I was unaware of what it would be. Considering that you left me unable to bear more children, I should have guessed. When did you discover it?"

Draco flushed, but took his mothers' hands and sat them both on the love seat before her desk. This was one topic he'd been avoiding and had hoped to avoid for quite a while longer.

* * *

He called out a loud "I'm home!" as he steped into the foyer and hung his cloak and hat, taking the post from its place on the side table on his way into the lounge. His fair (and thinning) hair was kept short and neat, and his round face always had a smile for those he met. He heard his wife starting up from the kitchen and reached to open the window by his favorite chair.

"How were things at the office today, dear?" she asked, stopping for a kiss hello before taking a small brass box from the mantle and setting it on the table next to his chair.  
"Alright I suppose. I'll be busy the next few days, what with the disappearance of all those children in the area surrounding Triberger Wasserfalle. The DRCMC [2] has us working with the German Ministry. They're at a loss as to why, all of a sudden, the Erklings have started acting up."  
"It's certainly better to be busy than not, though, isn't it Ted-dear? You do so hate not having some kind of research to delve into."  
"Too true, too true. Oh, this is for you. Isn't that the Black crest?"

Andromeda Tonks was, by no means, an easy woman to catch off guard. Growing up with a sister who was always trying to practice a new hex or jink, and another that constantly wanted to play dress up and pull on her hair, she learned rather early on to keep her eyes and ears open. But this, an ivory envelope bearing the bronze seal of the family that had disowned her, it confused her. As far as she was aware, the title and all the Black holdings should have been transferred to her younger sister, because she herself had been disowned, and their elder sister was a convicted Death Eater, stripped of all her current and future titles.

"Why," she wondered to herself, "would 'Cissa send me this?"  
"Well, Andie, aren't you going to open it?" asked her husband, looking at her through the puff of smoke from his freshly lit pipe.  
"O-of course."

She moved to the small secretary in the room and made to retrieve a letter opener, before deciding it was probably best to break the seal. A small flurry of green sparks errupted from the wax and a warm, happy feeling washed over her. She pulled the fine parchment from the envelope and settled on the window seat.

"_Dear Mrs. Andromeda Tonks –nee Black,_

_I hope my letter finds you and your family well, as I extend invitation to the formal reading of the Last Will and Testament of the late Lord Sirius Black. All guests are requested to arrive at precisely Three O'Clock, the afternoon of August the First, at Grimauld Place, London. _

_While I understand this may be an inconvenience, it is for the safety of all my family and guests that magical means of arrival and entry to the house have been restricted. Please make your travel arrangements accordingly._

_Rooms will be provided, should you choose to stay. I will not ask my family to make separate accommodations. _

_Deine Schwestern und dein Neffe sind ebenfalls eingeladen. Es sollte sich als interessanter Abend erweisen. [2]_

_Bis wir uns treffen._

_Lord Harold James Black"_

Her smile was bright and her eyes lit up as she laughed, the letter set aside. Ted shook his head at his wife as he opened one of the few bills that had arrived, only to be startled as the Floo activated. Tumbling out, covered in soot, was a young woman, her hair short and dark with bright purple tips. She stumbled as she tried to get up, brushing her robes off, and upon seeing Andromeda in a fit of laughter, raised an eyebrow back at Ted.

"What's going on, da'?" she asked.  
"Your mother received a letter bearing the-"  
"Black crest? I just got one too. Harry's given me a key –a key!- to Grimauld Place!"

Andromeda's laughter ceased and she stood to examine the leather cuff around her daughters' wrist. Sure enough the Black crest was embossed into the leather, with a peridot stone as the beasts' eye.

"Sirius, you clever man." she breathed, still smiling. "Ted-dear, when was the last time you wore your dress robes?"

* * *

"_Bellatrix Lestrange –nee Black._

_You will be at Number Twelve Grimauld Place, London at precisely Three O'Clock on the First of August. _

_All magical means of arrival and entry have been prohibited. All apparition and portkey attempts within an eight kilometer radius of the house will result in your immediate relocation and detention in a highly warded cell on Level Ten in the Ministry of Magic._

_Should you feel the need to speak about this meeting to anyone, you will very quickly find yourself unable to breathe, let alone speak. After a second attempt, you will be divested of a tongue with which to speak._

_Your wand and all magical objects on your person will be confiscated prior to admission to the house. Should you attempt to retain any such possessions, you will find yourself relocated and detained in the Ministry of Magic._

_Any attempts to have yourself followed will result in your immediate termination. Your accomplices will be allowed to return your body to your Master, and promptly eliminated thereafter._

_Failure to appear will be considered a second act of defamation of the Black name. You will dishonor not only yourself, but the entire House, and I will not allow it to go unpunished._

_This is a formal family function. If your attire is deemed inappropriate, you will be left to find your way to a safe place to apparate… without a stitch to wear._

_**Betrachte dich als gewarnt**_._. [4]_

_Lord Harold James Black"_

The windows in the dining room of Lestrange Hall shattered as an outraged scream echoed through the empty house. To say Bellatrix Lestrange was displeased with the binding magics that had been placed on the invitation would have been quite an understatement.

**To Be Continued**

A huge **thank you** goes out to** SilverEyes11**, who very graciously corrected my German! The meanings haven't really changed, but the actual German has, so here it is:

Okay, here it comes

1.)Always pure, and never afraid. We are greater than the house of  
Malfoy. Time for you to remember where we came from, Narcissa. Until we meet.

German: Immer rein und niemals ängstlich. Wir sind bedeutender als das Haus der Malfoys. Es ist Zeit, Narzissa, dich zu erinnern wo du herkommst. Bis wir uns treffen.

2.)Your sisters and nephew have also been invited; it should be an  
interesting evening. Until we meet.

German: Deine Schwestern und dein Neffe sind ebenfalls eingeladen. Es sollte sich als interessanter Abend erweisen. Bis wir uns treffen.

3.)Consider yourself warned.

German: Betrachte dich als gewarnt.

A small side note: I figure Hogwarts lets out between the 10th and 15th of June, which would have put Sirius' death early in the month. It has since been about 2 weeks since Harry arrived at Grimauld Place, having not returned to the Dursley's (that'll be explained in the next chapter), so it's now the end of the month. The family has been given just over a months' notice of the reading of the will.

There's a great deal to be covered in the coming chapters, so please be patient with me. I have also started a second story, a HP/Twilight cross over, and am trying to balance my writing time between the two. I am now about a chapter and a half ahead with _**Ashes**_, so I think I'm in good shape. We shall see how well writing two at once works.

As always, questions and comments are more than welcome.

~Muse


	5. Clear Vision

**From The Ashes**

**by Unfocused Muse**

**::Chapter 4::**

**::Clear Vision::**

With his business at Gringotts complete, Harry made his way out one of the side doors, nodding to a crimson cloaked sentry, and onto the side street that would take him to his next appointment. Most half-blood and muggle born students never learned about the other streets connected to Diagon Alley, save Knockturn Alley, until they'd graduated Hogwarts and were on their own. When Sirius had taken him to meet with their solicitor for the first time he'd been shocked to learn there was more to the Alley. Contrary to what he'd been lead to believe, the Leaky Cauldron was not the only way into the Wizarding section of London, merely the only direct access to Diagon Alley. The alley had, ages ago, been just like most other alleys, filled with boxes and crates and trash from the business and houses that butted up to it. Gringotts had stood at the end, just as it does now, but the alley had been obscured by street vendors in a half moon shaped court yard, and more often than not their trash was added to that of the surrounding buildings. As the world changed, however, so did the people, and the alley.

The court yard had once been a safe place to aparate into, but the frequent popping sounds had started drawing the attention of the muggles, and so apparition had started being regulated. Soon people stopped popping in and started doing things "the old fashioned" way. The shops had been spread out, most of them with apartments or lofts above and small houses in between. Many of the old houses and shoppes had been updated or transformed into something else, but the old streets, Witch Way and Wizards Walk, had become home to some of the more mundane businesses. There were a few barrister and solicitor offices, a healer's office –because let's face it, St. Mungo's was a hosiptal and the Healer's there had much more important things to worry about than a simple cold or scraped knee, an opthemologist (which was where he was headed), a florist, a grocer, butcher, and a jewelers, just to name a few.

He nodded as he passed the small, rundown building that was home to his solicitor's office, and made his way to the stark white building that was his next appointment. With a deep breath he walked in the bright blue door, listening to the single chime that went off as he pushed the door open. The short, round, older woman behind the counter paid him no mind as she worked on a pair of bright red framed glasses. A few swirls of light, with a final flash of pink, and she let out a long sigh, almost as if she'd been holding her breath.

"Sorry about that, dear." she said with a smile as she turned to greet him. "What can I do for you?"  
"Lord Black." he replied, shoulders squared, "I have an appointment."  
"Ah, yes, of course. You've read all the information I sent you, I assume?"  
"I have, and am aware of the discomfort I'll experience."  
"It may be a few days before your vision clears, Lord Black. Have you made arrangements for someone to escort you home?"  
"That won't be necessary; the House will take me home when we're finished."

She merely raised a greying eyebrow at him, but he could see that she understood. She picked up what he assumed to be his file and then motioned for him to follow her back to one of the exam rooms. They stopped so she could poke her head into the file room.

"Christina, be a dear and watch the front for me. Lord Black's procedure may take a while."  
"Yes, Healer Modi."

The girl that turned and headed out front was very short and slight, almost pixie like, with a large pair of coke bottle glasses, which Harry found odd. If she worked in an optometrists office, why then didn't she have a new, poly carbonate lensed set of glasses, or whatever the thin lenses wizards and witches wore? In a way, as she bowed and snuck out past him, she reminded him of Moaning Myrtle. Healer Modi clucked at the stacks of floating folders, shaking her head and leading him to the rather large exam room.

"She's a good girl. A little shy, but a hard worker. Have a seat, dear, and let's get started, shall we?"

* * *

It wasn't the sunlight or the chatter of birds that woke him, nor was it the smell of coffee brewing down the hill in the small camp they had set up. No, it was the soft pop of apparition and slight scent of sulfur that accompanied it that had him reaching for his wand and waiting for who ever it was to sneak up on him. It never came.

"What the…" he thought, cracking an eye open and looking towards where the sound had come from.

A familiar house elf stood at his feet, chartreuse eyes blinking owlishly at him as it unlocked a fairly large chest. He sat up with a grunt, rubbing the back of his neck and running a hand through his hair, trying to wake himself up.

"Dobby was told to give this to Master Remus, sir. Is from Lord Black." the house elf said quietly, looking around nervously.

"I gathered that much." he replied, "What is it?"  
"Dobby does not know, sir. Chest has been locked away since before Dobby came to Grimauld Place, sir."

"I don't recognize it. Do you know where in the house it was kept?"  
"Downstairs, sir. Dobby watched the Lord Black remove it from its hiding place with the house."

"With the house? It was hidden with the keystone?"

"No, sir, not _with_. _By._"

Amber eyes widened and he reached out for the chest with a cautious hand. He could feel the magic in the wood, and even in the metal of the lock, and it was both familiar and foreign at the same time. He knew the magic of the Black family, had lived with it for years and had even been allowed to touch and see it in all its glory when Sirius finally found his animagus form, but this was different. Blinking, Remus focused on the lock, looking at the magic with a critical eye.

"How is it you could unlock this, Dobby?" he asked.

"Dobby had permission! Great man Lord Black is, yes. Trusted Dobby!"

"That's all it took…" Remus wondered, touching the lock with a fingertip. "Sirius, you clever-"  
"No, no, Master Remus, sir. Not old Lord. New Lord. Lord Harry, sir."

"Oh, Padfoot, what have you done?"

"Must open! Dobby cannot leave unless the gift is opened."

With a deep breath he pulled the lock off and tossed back the lid. A flurry of white and bronze magic flew out, then black and green, and burst like fireworks. When the magic cleared, however, he was assaulted by the scent of deer. And wolf. Fox. Rabbit. Dragon. There were many scents he couldn't discern from the mix, and when he pulled back the gauzy material that covered the contents of the chest couldn't stop the sharp intake of breath he had to take. His hands shook at he pulled the top item out –a jacket- and stood up to look at it properly.

It was long, and would fall nearly to his ankles, made primarily out of deer hide, lightly tanned as so not to change the natural color of the material. The upper half of the cloak, including the hood, was lined with thick fur. It came in a point down his back and front, and just over his shoulders. The rest of the lining was lighter, and covered the rest of the impressive garment. With the hood down, it would lay flat against his back, appearing as if the thick fur was stitched directly to the cloak, and made something of a collar at the front. On either side of the hood front was a fox tail which obstructed the view of the simple buckles that would keep the jacket closed. It was split at the back, much like a duster, and upon closer inspection found that it did have straps to hold the sides to his legs, making fast movement a bit easier without getting tangled up. On each side there was lacing, allowing for a more custom fit, but there was also a buckle to pull the properly fit jacket even tighter. The sleeves had the same feature.

In the back of his mind, he could feel the wolf part of him crying, not at the beauty of the garment, but at the magic in it. It hadn't gone unnoticed, but Remus found himself marveling over the craftsmanship. The materials alone would have cost more than he could have afforded, and the quality in which it was made would have emptied his small vault in Gringotts.

"Pockets." Dobby said, wringing his hands together and still looking around nervously. "Check the pockets."

He had missed the pockets, and pat them down to see if there was anything in them, and found a folded piece of parchment. With a frown he set the cloak to float in front of him, as if on a mannequin, and opened the note.

"_My dear Remus,_

_I am sorry to have left you so suddenly, before I had a chance to present you with this gift myself. When we set out the make the coat, it was with the intention of giving it to you the day Harry was formally brought into the Pack, but… well… when Lily and James took Harry and went into hiding, and the attacks became more frequent, there was little time for collecting the last few pieces we needed, and even less to put things together. I put the last of the rabbit away the day before we lost Godrics' Hollow, and then found myself in Azkaban when everything fell apart. The house had been instructed to keep the chest hidden until I returned, and it did, better than I could have thought._

_The main body of the coat is made from deer, and is from the eldest pair that resided in the Forbidden Forest, given as a gift upon their natural deaths. Prongs collected it before we graduated. The wolf was a pair of young adolescents that I brought down for attacking Prongs, not long after we became Animagi. The rabbit and fox were collected much the same way, although we have Hagrid to thank for most of the rabbit. He kept the fur from his trappings for us. The thread… you can thank Lily for it. On nights we were out with you, she sat at the edge of the forest, grooming Unicorns. The amount of hair that she made the thread out of was insane; Snape would have died to have seen that much Unicorn hair in one place._

_Lily finalized the design, and made the pattern. Once all the materials had been collected, all I had to do was set the pieces of the pattern to work, and it sewed itself. The charms and protections were all her ideas too. She wrote out detailed instructions for the casting of each and every one, and that's probably the only reason Harry and I were able to cast them properly. Lily always was the best at charms. Harry's not too bad, but his strengths lie with offensive magics. But we managed._

_There's no time left, Remus. I've taught Harry all that I can, made him all I could, but he still needs more time. He's so like them that it hurt to work with him sometimes, but he's also his own man. Strong, intelligent –more so than he allows people to see-, brave, intuitive, and every bit the man we'd hoped he'd grow up to be. He only has the Rite of Memory and the Test of Old left to complete, although I think most of the memories have unlocked themselves. The house was very eager to start working with him, and has been speaking to him like it does with me. It didn't start speaking to me until after my father passed away, and even then it was quiet because of my mother. Stranger things have happened in this house tho', so I shouldn't be surprised._

_You need to stop grieving, and stop thinking that what you are makes you less of a man –less human- because, let's face it Remus, it makes you so much better. During the first war, when you fought, I could see how much of your instincts you followed. I saw how easy it was for you to use the natural magic of your condition. And I know it was because you had James and I, and even Lily, to ground you (Merlin knows Peter was pretty useless when it came to you), but I also know that you don't need Prongs and Padfoot to be present, Moony. You don't need us to constantly tell you it's okay to be yourself. You don't need us to hold your hand when you take the wolfsbane, or when you change, you never did. You need to be yourself, to trust yourself, to know that you are who you make yourself to be. Your condition doesn't rule you, Remus, it doesn't take away your sense of self __**unless you let it**__. You've always understood how dark magic works, and you've always thought it was stupid how misunderstood it is. Werewolves are the same way- it is the intent of the individual that makes the wolf stronger, or in your case makes the __**individual**__ stronger. _

_It's time to accept who, and what, you really are, Moony._

_You're Remus John Lupin, a quiet spoken man, with a wicked sense of humor. _

_You're insanely loyal to those you care about, and even more so to those you consider family. _

_You're a man that I am extremely proud to have called friend, but considered a brother._

_You're Moony, a werewolf unlike any I've ever come across (and we've met more than our fair share during this war, haven't we?)._

_You're fiercely protective of the few you've allowed to get close, and heaven forbid you consider them members of your Pack…_

_You're an Alpha, and entitled, __**by laws that predate the Ministry**__, to certain things. (You do remember what it's like to be an Alpha, don't you, Moony?)_

_Our cub needs you, and I know you need him._

_It's time to stop running, and hiding, Moony. _

_**Go home.**_

_~Your loving brother,_

_Padfoot."_

Remus folded the letter carefully, trying to stop his hands from shaking, but failing quite miserably. The letter had been open and honest, just like Sirius had been in life, and had driven home a few things he knew to be true.

What remained in the chest, however, was even more of a shock. Deep brown dragonhide trousers and boots, with a belt to match. The buckle was the head of a wolf with rubies for eyes, and if he had to guess was made out of platinum. There was a wand holster lined with the same rabbit fur as the coat and he could tell just by looking at it there were charms on it to prevent it from sliding, or the wand being removed without his consent. A simple French-cuffed white dress shirt completed the ensemble and he smiled at the cufflinks that matched the belt buckle.

"Dobby, did Harry give further instructions or another note?" he asked.

"Just that Master Remus should come home, sir. Dobby is to wait for instructions from you."

"From me?"  
Yes, Master Remus, sir. What to do with the chest."

"Ah. I'll keep it with me, I think. If you would tell Harry that I'll see him soon I'd appreciate it."

The house elf disappeared with a soft pop, leaving Remus with his thoughts.

"Sirius is right," he said to himself, "I have been hiding, and ignoring my responsibilities to my Pack."

A flick of his wand and the trunk packed itself up, the impressive gift locked securely inside. With a determined gleam in his eye and a spark of wild magic thrumming through him, he started back towards camp, startling the tall dark-skinned man sitting before the small fire.

"Thought you'd gotten lost." he chuckled, reaching for the coffee.

"I need you to lead me through the Joining." replied Remus, taking the cup offered to him.

"Really? What brought this on? Not that I'm going to argue, but you've been opposed to the Joining for years, my friend."

"A letter from Sirius," he motioned to the trunk that had settled itself with his things, "reminded me that I'm better than this, and that I've been doing myself a disservice by denying what I really am."

"Well I'll certainly help. When did you want to start?"

"As soon as possible."

"With the moon having just passed your magic will still be at its peak for at least another three or four days. I suggest we try a guided meditation tonight. The closer you are to your wolf, the easier it will be."

"Should we move camp, be closer to Zahira's Pack?"

"Hm. Perhaps. She has always been receptive to me, and very much so to you… her instincts and presence may be beneficial to you. Good thing we got up early- it'll take most of the day to get to her and settled."

A flick of a wand and they doused the fire, ready to pack up their things and head out. Despite having avoided this particular journey for many years, Remus found himself looking forward to the challenge.

* * *

Despite the well argued point Healer Modi made about his eyes and magic needing time to adjust, Harry walked out of her office with a lighter step and a wide smile on his face. He was looking at the world like it was the first time. The architecture was far more detailed than he'd realized, and all the colors more vibrant than he could remember ever having seen before. He may not have had more business in Diagon Alley, but that didn't mean he didn't have something he could do to give his eyes a good testing.

When Umbridge had him banned from playing Quidditch the year before, she'd placed a nasty splintering hex on his confiscated broom. Despite the various scans Hermione had performed on it, as soon as he was off the ground, it shattered. Thankfully he'd only gotten about ten feet up, and was only hovering- the hex was apparently height and speed sensitive, so the higher and faster he went the more severely the hex would have made the broom splinter. Needless to say he was without a broom, and the only place in Diagon Alley to get one was Quality Quidditch Supplies.

He hadn't paid much attention to the amount of people in the Alley when he'd come through earlier, as his appointment was not in the normal business district and was therefore less crowded, but as he headed past the Magical Menagerie there was hardly any room to get through. People were gathered outside his destination, pushing and arguing with each other to try and get closer to the window and door, and he frowned. What was going on that he didn't know about?

"Excuse me," he asked a boy, about seven or eight years old, "but what's going on?"

"You don't know? Krum's donated two of the newest brooms to be raffled off! The drawing is today!" the boy replied, trying to jump to see over the people in front of him.

"Really? Hm. That's very generous. Tell me, is Krum due to be here for the drawing?"  
"Yes, yes! He's inside. I just want his autograph- he's brilliant!"

"Thank you… what's your name?"  
"Tommy."

"I'm Harry. Thank you again."

"Sure."

The boys' full attention was again back on the crowd and Harry smiled to himself. Tommy was far too interested in trying to see through the bodies still pushing and pulling each other in front of the shop that he hadn't realized it was Harry _Potter _he'd been talking to. Of course without his glasses, and his hair style the way it was, most would be hard pressed to see him for who he was without really looking. He straightened his back and squared his shoulders before pushing through the sea of people and making his way towards the door. He was amused to find that even when people weren't paying attention to him, his appearance, confidence and the magic he naturally leaked (side effect of being magically strong was that you were always sending some magic back into the earth, and even the air) they got out of his way. He'd been spotted by the two burly men standing outside the door when he'd made it about halfway through the crowd, and by the time he managed to get to the edge of the small mob, they were waiting. He wasn't sure if they considered him a possible problem or not, but both men had their wands in their hands as he stepped out of the crowd and stopped before them.

"The store is closed." one of them said, his accent lighter than Harry had expected.

"If you could please inform Mr. Krum that I'm here." he said, pushing the hair away from his scar in such a way that it didn't draw the crowd's attention.

The men exchanged looks before the taller of the two nodded and motioned to the man inside the shop to open the door just a crack. They spoke in very hushed tones, in Bulgarian, and the third man's eyes went wide before he nodded. Harry knew that using his identity like this was not very professional, and would not reflect well on the House, but he didn't care. The chances that Viktor Krum would be in Diagon Alley again any time soon were slim to none, and he hadn't seen his friend in a little over a year. The least he could do was extend an invitation to dinner, and perhaps catch up on things they missed. Before he'd realized that the third man had disappeared into the back of the shop, Harry found himself escorted to the door by one of the men, and allowed inside. The shouts of upset that chorused from crowd was nearly deafening.

"Harry Potter!" a loud, deep voice called, and he smiled as Viktor appeared from the back room.

"Viktor Krum." he replied, stepping up to take the mans' extended hand. "You should have told me you were going to be in London."

"You look good." Viktor commented, ushering him in back, away from sight of the crowd. "I vas not avare you had moved to London. Please to sit."

"Thanks." Harry took the offered seat and watched as Viktor autographed a few more photos of himself. "The move is recent. I thought Hermione would have mentioned it."

"Hermione? Ve have not exchanged letters in many months."  
"Really? She didn't mention it. You two have a falling out of sorts?"

"My last letter vas… too forward, perhaps. She did not reply."

Harry frowned. In the past Hermione had shared many of Viktor's letters, yet she'd never mentioned the last letter, nor did she say anything about no longer writing to their friend.

"Not to vorry. I am sure ve will be writing again soon. I vish to visit vith her after I am done here. Surprise her."

"She's currently at the Burrow. I had business to deal with and she couldn't stay with me. My House is currently in a state of mourning."  
"My condolences." Viktor nodded as he offered his sympathies. "I vish to ask- vhy change your look?"

"As Lord of the House of Black I am require to present a certain image and uphold the traditions of the House. The look has been a work in progress for quite some time now."

"House of Black? I do not understand."  
"My Godfather was Sirius Black. He named me as his Heir by way of the Rites of Passage."  
"Very serious thing you have done, my friend. Blacks are very old family. You are avare of the old blood?"  
"Yes. You don't seem very surprised."

"Vell, I do not care if you are Potter or Black, you are still same man. Krum family comes from old blood as well. But this is not time to speak of this. You vill help me vith drawing, yes?"

Harry grinned and leaned forward, his elbows on the table and a mischievous glint in his eyes. Viktor returned the grin.

"What did you have in mind?"

* * *

Things had settled down in the Burrow shortly after breakfast, although Molly knew that her family was keeping their displeasure of having been kept in the dark about Harry's new status to themselves. Arthur felt that his wife should have confided in him, and felt slightly hurt that Harry hadn't felt he could talk to them about something so life altering. Fred and George thought it was brilliant, and about time Harry did something for himself, which Bill and Charlie agreed to as well, although they didn't understand how it possible for the boy to have completed the Rites so quickly. Ron and Hermione had been present at Grimauld Place earlier that day and had seen just how much Harry had changed. Ron seemed to know more than he was willing to share, and was currently trying to explain things to Hermione. Despite her brilliance and the ease in which she learned, her muggle up bringing was making the Rites of Passage difficult to understand. It was a marriage, of sorts, and being muggle-born she hadn't been properly educated in the different types of magical marriages. Septimus was arguing with his son about how it wasn't any of their business –"the Blacks are the Blacks and the Weasleys are the Weasleys. What they do in their family should be of no concern to us."- while Cedrella just sat with Fleur and talked about how much of a shock this was going to be to the world. Ginny, however, was the one she worried about the most.

Once the letter had vanished, and she'd managed to calm the family down, she explained the conversation she'd had with Harry the night before, as well as what had taken place earlier that morning. Ginny had commented on feeling the change in the house before she saw the State of Mourning take over, and that Harry was doing what was right. When Hermione had tried to argue that they should have been told, that it wasn't like him to keep something like this a secret and that they could have helped him, she had snorted and told the older girl that she was wrong.

"Whether he was going to do it or not, this is something Harry had to decide on his own. Involving us in any way wouldn't have been proper, and may have made it impossible to complete the Rites. I for one don't understand what the big deal is." she'd said, silencing the arguments and earning her a smile and nod of approval from Ron.

"I agree." he said, standing, "Many of the old families, the Weasleys included, have Rites of Passage for a reason. They may be seen as archaic nowadays, but there are no laws prohibiting their use. Harry's not stupid, and neither was Sirius. They wouldn't have entertained the idea if they didn't think it would work or if there was a way to keep the Black legacy alive and out of the hands of Bellatrix LeStrange."

"And after last year, can you really blame him for his change in opinion regarding Dumbledore?" Ginny's eyes hardened as she mentioned the Headmaster, "Harry's been in more scrapes and dangerous situations than anyone our age should be. Life-threatening situations. Dumbledore has deliberately kept information from Harry."

"Yes, but the information wasn't something a child should have been told, so the Headmaster was right to keep it from him." argued Hermione.

"When said child apparently holds the fate of the entire Wizarding World in his hands, I think he deserves to know what's going on." Ginny retorted, standing and grabbing her envelope, "This is something Harry had to do, for Sirius and for himself. I think this is who Harry is supposed to be, and you can either accept and support him –like you always have- or you can let your hurt feelings ruin your friendship."

Without waiting for a reply she turned on her heel and left the house, leaving her family stunned. Molly knew her only daughter was quite protective (dare she think smitten?) of Harry, but never had she shown so much of the Weasley temper in that regard. Hermione was fuming, more because Ron was chuckling at her expression than because her friend had just left them all speechless, and the twins were laughing as well, quite pleased with their little sister. Arthur was confused, just as his father was, but Cedrella looked contemplative. Molly let out a long sigh and poured herself another cup of tea. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

She paced before the worn leather chair in a virtually empty library, hands twisting her wand as she mumbled to herself. It was currently the end of June, which left her with a little over a month to plan, but that wasn't nearly enough time. The magic would make keeping some secrets easier, but it would also make her look suspicious. Her Lord was not happy with the way things went at the Department of Mysteries, and had since started asking when she would have access to the Black fortune and holdings. She was unable to give him an answer, which did not do her any favors.

"Bloody baby Potter." she growled, swiping a heavily tarnished candelabra from a nearby end table, "Trust my cousin to think of this. Aunt must be rolling over in her grave."

Bound not to speak of the meeting, or of any family business for that mater, she could not bounce ideas or plans off anyone. Non magical access to the house meant she would need to procure alternate transportation, which is something she hated, almost as much as she hated dressing like a muggle. The very thought made her skin itch. She had nothing that would work for that, nor would she be able to explain a shopping trip to a purely muggle area to her husband. The more she thought about it, the less she liked it, because it left her with only one option… to ask her sister for help.

* * *

He'd called for Dobby and asked for his dark set of gear, and one of Sirius' old cloaks. Once the house elf had been told what it was for, he'd grinned and disappeared with a shrill little laugh that, had he not been used to hearing, would have disturbed him. When he returned, however, it was Harry's turn to grin like an idiot. Dobby brought the dark gear, and then some. Soft dark brown trousers, a touch lighter than the nearly black "armor", as well as his black dragon hide boots, fitted with a black belt with an ornate buckle depicting the House guardian. He was given a very dark green long-sleeved shirt, one that was like a second skin with a mock neck. The sleeves were pointed at the back of the palm, held down by a simple sticking charm, and there were swirls of smoke embroidered in a deep charcoal, with the smallest hint of silver, up to the elbow, with a similar embroidery on the neck. The robe was what had really made him grin.

Sirius had wanted something that was just like himself- flashy and loud- and this robe was certainly that. Made out of Ember Silk (a fabric made from the webbing of a Skorch Spider), it was incredibly durable, and also very warm. Like most spider silks, it was as tough as steel, and incredibly light. Unlike others however, it was difficult to work with, because of the natural heat it emitted. Special cooling charms had to be placed on the silk as it was woven into threads just to make the fabric managable once woven into bolts, and once a garment was made, a complex and permanent charm was placed on it to prevent damage to whatever it touched. As it was the edges of the fabric smoked, and caused heat ripples in the air, and when moving the smoke became thicker, and easier to see. The only colors Ember Silk came in were various shades of grey and black, as it burned the pigment out of the dyes. This particular cloak was a deep charcoal, with black embroidery to match the smokey pattern on the shirt, and on the back the swirls were more elaborate, dancing around the face of a Grim. The collar was high, covering his neck, with a silver buckle. There were six buckles that kept the front of the robe closed, and upon closer inspection he'd found that the leather was in fact Dragon Hide, because there were very few fabrics that would be immune to the heat given off by the Ember Silk. The sleeves were only three quarter sleeves, edged with a very thin strip of Dragon Hide to keep it from smoking, while the bottom hem had been left raw, so that the smoke and ripple would be clearly visible, and create the most dramatic effect when flying. The embers it gave off when moving at high speeds would be green, thanks to a spell woven into it when it'd been made. It was slit up the back as so not to be impeded by the broom, and to make manuvering a bit easier, and much like the jacket he'd had sent to Remus, it had leg straps to hold it in place. All in all it was an impressive piece, and he knew it would turn heads.

The roar of the crowd was deafening as they walked out into the small curtained off area behind the stage that had been set up for the event, and he was suddenly very glad that when he played Quidditch he was moving above the crowd, and therefore above the majority of the noise. He shook his head clear, and nodded to Victor, that he was ready to get things stared. The man introducing them took that as his cue and cast a Sonorus on himself.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Children of all ages! Welcome, welcome!" he said, causing some of the ruckus to die down. "It is an honor and my great priviledge to introduce not only the world's most talked about Seeker, but also the most recent Triwizard Champion. While we have watched one of these men climb the ladder of success in his Quidditch career, the other we have watched thru his exploits against a darkness that threatens us all. Both have met resistance in their chosen paths, and they have not faltered in their determination. They fight, tireless in their quests for greatness, aiming not for wealth and priviledge, but to better themselves, to prove themselves worthy of your praise. Please put your hands together and joing me in welcoming Seeker Viktor Krum and Harry Potter!"

Viktor took off first, sparks of red trailing him in honor of his team, and the crowd's cheering was once again deafening. He took off 30 seconds later, having released the Snitch that would leave a trail of gold for the crowd to follow, and had to smirk at the dark green sparks that followed him. A few swirls, following Viktors pattern and he broke away, as they had planned, and climbed, searching for the Snitch. His eyes, still adjusting to the difference in the way they perceived things, watered a bit in the sunlight, but he could still see just fine, and he squinted as he caught sight of the small ball of gold that the other Seeker had also noticed. He gave a small nod and casted the spell that would cause the Snitch to seemingly burst, becoming a Phoenix to fly over the crowd, giving them time to land and be front and center by the time their attention was back on them. It was a spell he'd learned in one of the books in the Black library, but had never cast, so he hoped he'd done it right, otherwise the Press would be having a field day over his mistake.

Viktor started his dive at the exact moment he did, and just as they were readying to pull up, a familiar cry cut through the air, and the Snitch started to glow a brilliant white and red. Both Seekers managed to pull back, surprised at the sound that was accompanying the spell, and flew back behind the sun shade over the stage so they could pull thru and land, just as the Snitch blew apart. The wave of flame that flew out over the crowd was unexpected, as was the "woosh" of fire that errupted from the light, and both their jaws dropped as the Phoenix appeared, wings spread and tail splayed out, showing off its brilliant plumage. Green eyes widened as he realized exactly what he was looking at as the bird gave a mighty flap and rose into the air with a spin.

"Fawkes." he breathed, unable to tear his eyes away.

The bird let out a happy trill and flew down towards them, eyes bright, and seeming to laugh at the two boys. He took a step forward, ignoring his friend's look of concern, and held an arm up. The crowd was silent as the bird landed, shaking himself as he settled on the arm, and letting his flames disappear, leaving behind the brilliant red and gold bird Harry had seen in the Headmaster's office many times over the years. Another chirp and the Phoenix turned himself around to look out at the crowd, before bobbing his head happily.

"I don't understand how," Harry whispered, stepping back from the edge of the stage, "but thank you. That was awesome, Fawkes."

Had the bird been human, the look he gave the wizard would have been a rolling of the eyes, but there was a great deal of laughter in them, and he hopped off Harry's arm onto the ornate stand Viktor had transfigured out of the podium. The crowd was murmuring amongst themselves about the display, and Viktor decided it was probably best to get them thinking about something else, before they errupted into questions.

"Who here is vaiting to know who vill be taking home one of these?" he asked, holding up his broom. "This newest broom- Thunder Chaser!"

The crowd went wild at seeing the new broom up close and personal, knowing that it had just been ridden by Viktor Krum. Harry pulled his own broom around scanned the crowd, looking for the little boy that had told him about the drawing. When he spotted him, he frowned. Tommy was towards the back of the crowd, squished between a bunch of teenagers who wouldn't either let him forward or pick him up so he could see. Viktor followed his line of sight and also frowned, but reached for the envelopes the announcer was holding out for him.

"Two people, out of all entries ve received, vill be taking home broom signed by me." he said, setting his broom back against the rack that appeared, with a second broom.

"And one lucky individual," added Harry, holding his own broom up, "will be getting this broom, signed by both Viktor and myself, as well as a seasons pass to this years Quidditch World Cup, and an invitation to visit Hogwarts for any and all of Gryffindor's matches!"

That had the crowd screaming, because it had not been listed as being one of the official prizes, and everyone wanted to be the one who won that prize. Fawkes turned his head, looking at Harry with something akin to amusement, and once his dark amber eyes met emerald, he understood. He started singing, sometimes stretching his neck up and letting the sound ring louder, and spread his wings. Harry didn't know what to think of the Phoenix's appearance, or easy acceptance of this, because he was expecting Dumbledore to be absolutely furious when he found out that he'd just invited a kid to Gryffindors' games.

He took the quill from Viktor and signed his broom, and took the small envelope he'd written up to make it look like this was official. While Viktor presented his two brooms, Harry was trying to figure out how exactly to call the boy up. He hadn't been given a last name, and he was sure there was more than one "Tommy" in the crowd. A small flash of white and burst of flame from Fawkes brought his attention to the small scroll that was just tying itself up in front of the bird.

"Fawkes?" he whispered, holding an arm out for the bird, "You're backing me up, aren't you?"

The Phoenix looked at him as it took the scroll in its beak and stepped onto the offered arm, and then held the scoll out to him.

"_Hogwarts is happy to help you, Heir of Gryffindor, Her Favored Son."_

Harry hid his surprise as best he could, and turned his attention back to the crowd with a smile.

"So," he said, searching the crowd, "who here wants to know who's taking home the grand prize?"

The roar shook the stage, and he heard Viktor chuckle. Fawkes looked over to the Bulgarian Seeker and cocked his head, studying him for a moment. He'd met the boy once before, at the TriWizard tournament, but he'd never had the chance to take a good look at him. What he saw was an impressive magical core, and a connection to the Old Blood much like the Favored Son had. There was an honesty in him that he had not seen from many that hailed from Durmstrang, and that made much more of an impression than just the bloodline he could trace. With a small trill he spread his wings, making sure to touch both boys shoulders and jumped off Harry's arm toward the crowd.

"Fawkes, would you be so kind as to bring our winner up here, please?" Harry laughed, and the Phoenix gave a light laughing chirp as he headed for the back of the crowd.

The people, wary of the great creature, parted as he approached, all save one boy. A boy in complete awe of the bird's magesty and grace, and with eyes glowing with wonder. He turned around after flying over and slowed his decent, careful not to frighten the child. Mouth slack jawed, and eyes wide, he pointed to himself, unable to speak, and as the Phoenix grew closer he made sure his shoulders were squared. The crowd gasped as he was lifted up into the air, as if he weighed nothing, and brought up to the stage. Once he was certain the boy was securely on the ground, he hopped off his shoulders back onto the perch and ruffled the unruly mop of sandy hair of the shocked boy.

"Yes," he thought, "this boy is worthy. Unconcerned with everything material, just looking for a word of praise or smile from those he admires."

"_You chose well, Favored Son."_

Harry nodded at the bird and crouched down to Tommy's eye level. The boy was beside himself, he could see, but perfectly behaved. He wasn't squealing and screaming or jumping around like the two that had been presented with Viktors' brooms, and it seemed like he was torn between saying thank you or staring at Fawkes. Harry smiled.

"Well, it seems like we've got our winner." he said, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Bet you weren't expecting that, were you?"

"N-no, sir. I don't think anyone was."

"Sir? You can just call me Harry."

"Al-alright, H-Harry. I'm Tommy. Tommy Jenkins."

"Thank you for your help earlier, Tommy."

"Help?"

"Earlier, I met you in the crowd and asked what was going on."

"That was you?"

"Yup. I had no idea Viktor was going to be here, isn't that right Viktor?"

"Da. It vas surprise to see Harry today."

"So this wasn't part of the drawing?"

"Originally, no. Vhen Harry showed up, ve came up vith plan to add second part to drawing. You are very lucky young man, Tommy Jenkins."

"T-Thank you Mr. Krum."

Viktors' laugh was loud and booming, startling the boy, but he smiled as a large hand ruffled his hair. He hadn't thought that he, of all people, would be winning one of the brooms, let alone a prize this amazing.

"T-to be honest, I didn't think I'd win."

"Then why come out?" asked Harry, lifting the boy up onto his shoulders as the crowd continued to cheer for the winners.

"Because I wanted a chance to see Mr. Krum in person. I've never seen a professional match before, but my dad gave me a subscription to Quidditch Monthly for my birthday last year, and I follow all his matches!"

"Vell, I am pleased to meet you." Viktor smiled, pulling out the broom with both autographs, "Vould you like to take a spin?"

"Oh, no, I can't!" the boy all but panicked, causing Harry to take a few quick steps to keep him ballanced.

"Vhy? It is your broom, no?"

"I-I'm not allowed. Mama says I'm not allowed to fly until I've had lessons, and…"

Harry and Viktor exchanged looks, and motioned for the announcer to close things up. Pulling Tommy from his shoulders, Harry ushered the boy into the back, away from the crowd, and Fawkes followed, carrying his perch with him. The Phoenix knew exactly what both older boys were thinking and smiled inwardly.

"Flying lessons are expensive, aren't they Tommy?" asked Harry, pouring the boy a glass of water.

"Yeah."

"Where are your parents, Tommy? Are they out in the crowd?"

"Uh… no. I came by myself."

"Your parents let you come alone?" asked Viktor, setting his gloves in his gear trunk.

"Not exactly. They don't know I came. D-dad works a lot, and mama… mama's not a Witch, and doesn't come here without dad. I won't get in trouble- I come to Diagon Alley by myself all the time when mama needs things."

"But if your parents don't know vhere you are, von't they vorry?"

Harry stood up, pulling off his guards and laying them out on the table. A snap of his fingers and a house elf appeared just behind him, startling Tommy. He gave a quick look over to Viktor, who nodded.

"Kreacher, take my gear back to the house, please, and collect Mr. Krum's effects as well. He'll be staying with us while he's here in London."

"Harry, please, I am-"  
"No buts, Viktor. You'll get more peace and quiet at Grimmauld Place than at any hotel you've booked, and I guarantee the food will be better."

"If you insist."

Kreacher nodded and with a snap of his own bony fingers he and all of their gear was gone. The broom and certificates for Tommy had been packed up into a carrying case, and Harry put a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"We're going to take you home, Tommy." he said.

"Really, I'm fine, Mr. Pot- eh, Harry."

"No, it's not fine. The people out there will do anything for the prizes you've won, and most of them are trained Witches and Wizards. It'll be best if we take you home. Perhaps we can talk to your mom about flying lessons too."

A soft trill from Fawkes brought everyone's attention to the bird, and Harry raised an eyebrow at him.

"_It is a good thing you are doing for this boy. I shall take my leave of you, Favored Son, but we will talk again soon."_

Harry nodded and stepped back, allowing the Phoenix to apparate out without burning anyone, and it earned him a look from Viktor. While he'd known the Phoenix for several years now, and had called to him once before, he hadn't known that he was capable of speech of any kind. He knew he was the only one the bird had talked to, but there would need to be explainations later, perhaps after dinner and with a stiff drink, when his head was a little quieter and could process exactly what had happened better.

"Wow." Tommy breathed, "That was amazing. How did you get a real live Phoenix here?"

"He lives at Hogwarts." answered Harry. "He came to deliver the invitation to Gryffindor's games."

"That's so cool."

"He is, isn't he? Now, Tommy, where do you live so we can get you home?"

* * *

She felt the change in the air before she heard the woosh of apparition, and the sudden flash of heat that accompanied it. She closed her hand into a fist, as so not to lose the small gem that rested in her palm, and looked up to see who they'd sent out to get her. Hazel eyes widened as they fell on the familiar red and gold plumage of the Headmaster's Phoenix.

"Well, this is unexpected." she said, straightening her back and running a hand through her tousled hair.

Fawkes hopped up to her, eyes bright as he looked at her closed hand.

"I have no idea if you understand me or not, but I haven't made it yet. I'm… afraid to." she said, uncurling her fingers to show him the stone. "I wanted to hurt the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries. Harry was the only one with guts enough to try and do it properly."

He walked around her so he was standing next to her, and looked again at the stone, giving her a small nudge.

"What, you want to see what it would become? Why are you even here? Did Dumbledore send you to check up on those of us who were at the Ministry, because Ron and Hermione are back at the house."

He shook his head, and gently took the stone in his beak. She gasped and held her breath as he stepped onto her lap, wings out a bit to balance himself, and leaned forward to press the stone to her throat.

"_Soon, child, you will understand_."

A flash of heat and Ginny could feel something resting against her collarbone as the Phoenix stepped back, eyes bright as he tilted his head to the side to look at her. She reached a hand up to her neck, and felt something both cool and hot. She grabbed her wand and conjured up a mirror, only to gasp at the reflection.

A necklace, ornate yet simple enough to wear every day, lay against her throat. Carved from what she assumed to be ivory was a majestic Phoenix, with peridot eyes and small ruby chips nestled in what she saw as being swirls of flame that danced up the fine silver chain. There were diamond accents throughout the piece, and when she turned her wide hazel eyes to the bird sitting in front of her, she saw, for the first time, that there was a silver chain around his neck. He turned his head as she reached for the chain, allowing her to pull the pendant out from its place nestled in his feathers. It was a large, teardrop shaped diamond, with swirls of silver holding it to the chain, and when she looked into it she could see flames dancing inside the jewel.

"_Her key, given long ago."_

"Have you always been able to talk to us?" she asked, watching as he tucked the stone back to where it had rested.

"_Never had a need to speak, but yes."_

"Why me? Why now?"

"_Because things are starting to change."_

"Change? Like Harry becoming Lord Black?"

"_The Favored Son plays a great part in what will happen, yes."  
_"Favored Son? Is that what you call Harry? Is it because he's Heir of Gryffindor?"

"_You have made your key, and that is the first step in gaining answers."_

"Why can't you just ans-"

"_I cannot stay; She calls me home."_

He hopped away from her, flapping a few times to get himself off the ground before she could get to her feet. A burst of flame and he was gone, leaving Ginny speechless. She fingered the phoenix around her neck, feeling a calm wash over her, and frowned.

"Who the hell is 'She'?" she wondered, picking up the letter from Harry and giving it another reading.

"_Dear Ginny-_

_ I feel I must apologize for this morning. It had not been my intention to be so cold and callous to you all. The effect of putting the house in a State of Mourning was much more intense than I had anticipated, and I could feel the way it affected everyone currently in the house. Hermione's magic was least receptive to it, while yours and Rons' bowed down almost immediately. I don't know if that's something I can thank you for, because I don't know if it was intentional or not, but you have my thanks just the same._

_Besides Ron and Hermione, you one of my closest friends throughout the years, and I feel you deserve an explaination. When Sirius asked me to be his Heir, I was told to think about it, that it wasn't something I should rush into, or do simply because I wanted to make him happy. I was encouraged to ask questions, and to want information, and Sirius made sure I knew exactly what I was getting into when I said yes. It wasn't a hard decision to make- in the short time I'd known him, I'd come to love him, and I knew that despite everything he would the closest thing to family I'd ever have. You know how important family is to me, so I'm sure you can understand that this is something I knew I had to do._

_We hadn't expected Sirius to die quite so suddenly, so I've kinda been thrust into this. I'm not sure how long it's going to take me to settle into my role as Lord, and I will apologize in advance for any rude and uncalled for behavior, and give you permission to hit me with a good bat-bogey hex should I become that much of an ass._

_The one thing I am sure of, in the midst of all this chaos, is that I'm lucky to have a group of friends that I can trust to have my back. When you make and activate your key, the House will recognize you as an Honorary Black, and will be here for you should you ever need it. _

_Once things settle down, and I have a chance to sit down with all of you, I'll tell you more of what I've learned, and what I plan to do. What I can tell you now is that the Wizarding World is going to be forced to remember where it came from, whether they like it or not, and we will be at the forefront of the change._

_I'll talk to you soon._

_ -Harry_

_PS: If you get a chance, would you try and talk to Hermione, explain to her what's going on? Ron will piss her off because he'll get tired of explaining it, whereas you'll be able to explain it better to her because you're a girl. No offence_."

So he had plans. Big plans by the sound of it. Well, if he was going to shake the world, then she was going to stand there with him and watch as the world burned. Her necklace gave off another wave of heat as she headed towards the house, feeling much better than she did when she first came out.

**To Be Continued**

Authors Notes: I apologize, quite profusely for the ungodly wait for this chapter. I have not lost interest, nor do I intend to stop writing. I… I have not been very good at making myself sit down and write, despite wanting to. I am not going to offer excuses, because none of them are good, and all it really boils down to is the fact that I've been lazy. I'm hoping that I can try and make myself do more, but I make no promises.

I have created a Poll for _Ashes. _Please understand that I may or may not use the information gathered from the poll, as I have my own ideas regarding the topic (Animagi), but would like to know what others think. It is merely to satisfy my own curiosity and to maybe get people wondering what exactly I'm planning. The poll can be found on my LiveJournal, which is linked as my homepage.

As always, comments and questions are both appreciated and encouraged.

~Muse.


	6. The First Visit

**"From the Ashes"**

**by Unfocused Muse**

**::Chapter 5::**

**::The First Visit::**

**

* * *

**

He looked up from the Prophet as the door to the kitchen swung open, and waved towards a chair as a tall man that walked in, yawning and stretching, trying to wake himself up. The chair moved out, and he stood, reaching for a mug and the pot of coffee .

"Morning." he said, "how do you take your coffee?"

"Uugh. Black." was the reply, and he scratched his head, trying to clear out the cobwebs left by sleep.

"You slept alright, I hope?"

"Da. Vas much better than hotel. Please to remind me never to drink so much of that Muggle drink again."

He chuckled as he passed Viktor his coffee and set out to make himself another cup- cream and three sugars. He'd made sure the house elves knew that he would be taking care of breakfast, and setting his coffee next to the stove he rolled up his sleeves and pulled down a large skillet. Quick flick of his wand and he had the eggs and bacon floating over from the fridge (something he was very glad he managed to convince Sirius to update), and the bread and butter slid themselves over from their place on the counter.

"How do you take your eggs, Viktor? I've got the makings of omlets too, if you'd prefer."

"Vhatever you vish to make is fine. I am not picky."

"Hm." Harry walked over to the fridge and took a quick look at some of the different things that would make an interesting omlet. "Any food allergies?"

"No."

"Then feel free to sit back and enjoy your coffee -I'm sorry the Coke didn't agree with you."

"No, no, it is fine. I think perhaps it is sugar that does not agree vith me. I have never been out in Muggle London like that. They have most interesting lifestyle."

"It is." he pulled out a tray of sausages, some tomatoes, mushrooms and the left over spinach from supper two days ago. "To most they are seen as being uncultured, and uneducated, but I think they've done pretty well for themselves."

"Never before have I seen such as that 'foot ball', or eaten –vhat did you call it?- 'fast food'. I should spend time learning about them."

"I'll take you out any time you'd like."

Viktor watched as bacon and sausage were added to the now hot skillet and Harry moved onto cutting up some mushrooms and dicing up a tomato. He took a good swig of his still hot coffee and stood, making his way over to the sink to wash. Harry raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing as he reached for the eggs and a mixing bowl.

"Vhere do you keep wisk?" Viktor asked, cracking an egg into the bowl.

"Uh, right here." replied Harry, reaching for the aforementioned utensil in the container to the left of the stove. "You don't have to help me, Viktor. Sit and read the paper."

"Is nothing but garbage anyway."

"You're right, of course. I didn't know you could cook." he said.

"Not all Vizards rely on house elf cooking." was the reply.

"I'm sorry- I didn't mean-"

"No, no. You misunderstand." interrupted Viktor, adding half of the now diced tomatoes to the omelet Harry had started, "My mother, she told my father 'vomen vill respect man who can cook. Our son vill not be afraid to do his share.' And that vas that. She made house elf take days off, and she teach me to cook."

"And you didn't have a choice I take it?"

"Had choice, but I like to eat, and so I learn. Is like mother said- I vill not be afraid to do my share. Vhy did you learn?"

Harry took a deep breath, knowing this conversation was bound to upset him, and through him the House, and flipped the omelet.

"I wasn't given a choice." he said, "I was raised by my mother's Muggle relatives."

"I do not understand."

"My aunt and uncle don't like magic. Hate it, actually. Thought it best to… force it out of me, at least that's what Uncle Vernon said. I was the house elf, not their nephew."

Viktor looked up sharply at Harry, surprise clearly written across his face. Harry just shrugged and removed the omelet from the pan, ready to start the second, when a hand clamped down on his shoulder. The look Viktor gave him wasn't one of sympathy or pity, like he'd grown used to seeing when people realized exactly how he'd grown up, but rather one of approval and strength.

"That you are able to do these tasks for yourself, and refuse to rely on house elf -vhich most in your position vould do-, tells me that you, Harry Black, are better man than most. To you, people is people, and you are not afraid to show them that you are no different than they are. Now, you set table; I vill finish this, and ve can discuss business."

* * *

The first thing he noticed when he walked into his office was that it was cold. Colder than it should have been, given the time of year and the various warming charms he'd placed on the room to keep it just the right temperature. The second thing he noticed was that the ornate perch his faithful friend had called home for… more years than he could recall, was gone. That unsettled him, because he remembered, quite clearly, having left early that morning, with the Phoenix preening on the stand just in front of but to the right of his desk. Never before had the stand left his office, as it had been in the office of the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for as long as the institution had been standing. The Phoenix had made the castle its home long ago, and if the legend was to be believed, he was here before the Founders converted the castle to a school. He set the few scrolls and books he'd picked up that morning on the clear space on his desk, only to frown as he noticed a piece of paper with the official Hogwarts stamp on it, along with a bright red ribbon sealed on with gold wax, the Gryffindor crest stamped into it, floating just above the surface of the desk. He picked it up, and read, only to have his frown deepen.

"This isn't right." he said, readjusting his glasses to take a better look at the seal, "This is not Minerva's seal."

He tucked the letter into his pocket, and went up to the second level of his large office, to a hidden door in one of the bookcases. The long, narrow hallway that was hidden behind was filled with cobwebs, a testament to how little the passage was used, and he had to clear it with a flick of his wand before he could duck his head and make his way through.

The passage was spelled against magical light, but he wasn't going to take the time to light a candle- this required immediate attention. His steps were cautions as he made his way up the narrow flight of stairs and he kept his hand on the wall, just slightly in front of him, waiting to meet the door at the end, and when he finally found it, it took him a moment to find the latch. The magic resisted his attempt to open the door, at first, but with a great shove he managed to turn the locks and get the door open.

The room was light, and airy, the windows invisible from the outside, making it seem like an empty turret, but giving a view of nearly the entire grounds. There were only four torches on the wall, one for each of the Founders, and the light they gave off (when lit) would make the tower visible for miles, much like a light house. The walls, that weren't a window, were smooth white marble, as was the floor, with thick veins of gold that seemed to shimmer and move as the light moved through the room. In the very center of the room stood a golden pedestal, depicting a Lion, a Serpent, an Eagle, and a Wolf, under the wings of a phoenix, with a second bird circling the ground, guarding them with its flames. The glass case that rested upon the pedestal held one of the most important pieces of Hogwarts history- the original charter and a large tome that belonged to the Founders, cataloguing the creation of the school. The glass was spelled unbreakable, impervious to all means of weather, protected against light, and there absolutely no visible latches, and therefore no means to access the artifacts, but what he needed was clearly visible.

On the bottom of the charter, that was a bit yellowed with age but still easily legible, were four signatures, along with four seals. It was the first seal was what held his interest.

"High Lord Godric Gryffindor." he read, leaning down to get a better look at the seal pressed into the gold wax over a red ribbon.

The seal was nearly an inch and a half around, depicting a very detailed lion standing on its hind legs, a scroll held by its tail, and front paws resting on the pommel of a sword. Around the edge of the seal were wound vines with thorns, with what appeared to be an amaryllis in the lower right corner, just under the lions' hind feet. He pulled the letter from his pocket and studied the seal it bore next to the original, only to find that they were identical.

With a frown he tucked the letter back into his pocket and looked out over the grounds. He was, to his knowledge, the only person with access to the original seals, and even then all he could do was look at them. Most depictions of the Founders seals were of a newer type, or the House seals each of the Head of Houses' used on their correspondence, and were often wrong. He knew for a fact there were no books in the Hogwarts library that would have a true picture of the seals, so how someone managed to duplicate it, and so perfectly, was a mystery. One that he did not like.

"Perhaps there is something I am-"

A flash of heat interrupted his train of thought, bringing his attention now to the Phoenix perched on the glass case, looking down at the charter with what he could only describe as a nostalgic expression.

"Fawkes." he said, holding the letter out to the bird, "What do you know of this?"

The Phoenix looked at the invitation and trilled, tapping his foot over Gryffindors' signature, before turning to face the door.

"This is no game, my friend. It is very important that I know who wrote this."

Fawkes turned again, and puffed out his chest, shuffling his wings as if to say "I did it!" He took the letter in his beak, and it rolled itself up, tied neatly with the red ribbon, and he took off, somehow flying down the narrow stairwell without catching his wings. The Headmaster followed as quickly as his old legs could take him, despite the fact that he was running blind, and had to blink rapidly as he entered back into his office because of the light difference. The door shut and locked behind him, the bookcase sliding back into place as well, and he looked around for the Phoenix, who was no where in sight.

"Now where did he get off to?" he asked, no one in particular.

"Off to file that scroll, I'd suspect."

The voice caught him off guard and he turned to look up at where the Sorting Hat sat.

"You're not one for idle conversation, Hat."

"I think that, perhaps, for a matter concerning the Gryffindor Quidditch team you should speak with their Captain."

"I highly doubt Harry had anything to do with this."

"Hmm… that boy has done a great many things he should not be capable of. Underestimating him would not be wise."

"What is it you know?"

The Hat had grown silent, unmoving, but with what would have been its eyes looking up towards the Gryffindor Sword. It seemed to the Headmaster, although he blamed it as a trick of the light and his aging eyesight, that the blade glowed with an inner light, almost as if it were laughing.

* * *

It was just after lunch, and they had decided to lounge around outside, perhaps even try to explain a few things to Hermione. As it was, the boys had gone and started a make-shift Quidditch match, leaving the girls to their own devices, and Ginny was, for some reason, nervous. She knew how Hermione could get when she thought she knew something, and the task of educating the Muggle-born girl was not something she had been looking forward to.

"But," she thought, pulling her hair up into a messy bun, "Harry did ask that I try."

She didn't even realize she'd reached up to finger her new necklace, and was startled when Hermione nudged her in the arm.

"Huh?"

"You keep playing with it."

"It's just new, I guess."

"It is very pretty. I wonder why it became a Phoenix, of all things."

"Does it really matter?"

Ginny hadn't told anyone about Fawkes' visit, knowing that it would prompt more questions, and raise suspicion, and this was a big enough deal without adding any more problems.

"I suppose not. I'm not making mine until after I've talked to Harry."

"You should write Madam Pince and see if you can check those books out early. We all grew up knowing this stuff, so trying to teach you is, no offence 'Mione, not easy. You tend to learn better when you teach yourself."

Hermione laughed and fingered the small brown envelope she hadn't let out of her sight the last day and a half. She wanted desperately to show Harry that it didn't matter that he'd "married" into the Black family, or that there were no hard feelings for the other morning, but there was so much she didn't understand. She didn't think it was right to accept the gift of a Key, which was apparently a REALLY big deal (especially considering that he wasn't consulting the rest of the family before handing them out), when she was confused about what it meant. She had prided herself in knowing at least a little bit about every topic, but in this she was flying blind, and it didn't sit well with her.

Ginny watched as her friend's brown eyes grew a bit sad, and she hated it. She knew she was feeling as if she was being left behind, that she thought everyone thought she was suddenly stupid, but if there was ever one thing that Hermione Granger wasn't, it was slow. She stood up, hauling Hermione to her feet and started for the house.

"Come on," she said. "We're going to write Madam Pince, and then we're going to call Harry."

"But I thought he wasn't to be disturbed." argued Hermione, nervous about confronting her friend.

"'Mione, he's still Harry. If he got the information he needed from Sirius, chances are it's in the Black library. While we wait for that book you checked out last year, I'm sure he'd let us into the house to start educating you."

"I don't want to impose, or interrupt his planning."

"Hermione Granger, are you a Gryffindor or aren't you?"

"Of course I am!"

"Then muster up your Gryffindor courage, and dive head first -like you always do- into the research and the learning. You brewed Polyjuice in SECOND year, for Merlin's sake, and that's not taught til SEVENTH."

The girls both laughed as they made their way into the house, and didn't see the boy's Quidditch match getting interrupted by a Great Horned Owl flying right up to Fred (or was it George?). They all landed, and the twins relieved the owl of its letter.

"Is it from Harry?" asked Bill, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"Yeah. Not sealed up like the last bit tho'." said Fred, handing it to George.

"Must not be 'official'." laughed Charlie.

"So, open it up already!" added Ron.

The twins put their heads together, reading the quick, simple letter, faces breaking out into identical grins.

"**WICKED**!" they exclaimed, high-fiving each other. "Sorry mates, we've got to run. Tell Mum we'll try to be home for supper."

"Wait, what's up?" Bill tried to grab the letter.

"Can't tell. But boy will you be surprised." said George.

"This is now our top priority. Put our brooms away, yeah?" finished Fred, and they disapparated.

Charlie and Bill picked up their brooms and, shaking their heads, headed towards the house. Ron stayed back, and held his hand out for second letter no one seemed to see the owl had yet to deliver. It gave a soft hoot and took off, leaving him with the small envelope addressed to himself.

"_Hey Ron-_

_Thought to give you a heads up: Viktor Krum is in London, and staying at Grimmauld Place for the duration of his trip. Ran into him at a raffle at Q.Q.S yesterday -why didn't you tell me there was a raffle!- and we kinda… well, I'm sure it'll be in the Prophet after the gaming commission is done trying to clean up our mess. _

_Anyway, I gave your brothers a task, unrelated to family business, but it'll be the first thing the new Lord Black puts his name on the map for. Once Viktor and I work out more of the details (hopefully within the next day or two) I plan on having you over to the house to discuss it._

_Oh, and keep Viktor being here to yourself- apparently Hermione misunderstood something he said in one of his last letters and he wants to surprise her with a visit so that he might better explain in person. Poor Hermione- her lack of a proper Pureblood education has really done a number on her lately. _

_And I can't believe I just played the Pureblood card. _

_Shit._

_Harry_"

Ron folded the letter up and shoved it in his pocket, chuckling as he collected up his broom and the quaffle, trying to think of how he was going to explain Fred and George's absence, because he knew Bill and Charlie wouldn't have said anything to their mother.

* * *

By the time he'd finished what little paperwork he had and made arrangements to travel to Little Whinging, it was early evening, and he was hoping that he would catch the family at home. There had been some concern voiced at an Order meeting that there was something wrong with things at Number Four Privet Drive, and he was hoping to prove the rumors false.

A simple concealment charm kept him from being noticed by the busy-body neighbors, and he rang the bell once up the drive. He made a mental note of the state of the gardens, as any other time he'd visited (although those occasions were few and far between) they had been very well tended, whereas now they seemed a little over grown. The lawn was also longer than he remembered having seen it before.

"Yes, how can I- YOU!" a large -obscenely large- man exclaimed when he answered the door.

"Good evening, Vernon. May I come in?" he replied, ever polite.

"No, absolutely not!"

"Surely you don't wish my visit to be topic of conversation among your neighbors?"

"Let him in, Vernon!" he heard a woman say, and suddenly the door was pulled open and he was ushered inside.

The inside of the house showed much the same beginning of neglect that the outside had, and he wondered why they were letting things go, when in the past everything had been in perfect order.

"Lovely to see you, Petunia. Perhaps your son can fetch Harry, and we might talk over a cup of tea?" he asked, moving to the living room as he was sure there was more room for them all there than in the hallway.

"I- I'm afraid my nephew is not here." she replied, more nervous than she had been at the door.

"Oh? When do you expect him?"

"Well, I-"

"We don't." Vernon interrupted his wife, glaring at the wizard that was making himself at home.

"Out with friends for the evening? Perhaps if you-"

"What are you playing at, you old fool? We haven't seen the boy since he left here last August."

"I beg your pardon? School has been out nearly three weeks- he should have been collected at the station."

"Like I said, we haven't seen him. Some time before Christmas all his things disappeared -and good riddance I say! Now out with you! I'll not have your kind in my house."

"Vernon." Petunia tried, giving the Headmaster a pleading look and ignoring Dudley as he disappeared upstairs.

His blue eyes lost their sparkle, fixing Petunia with a glare, and she wrung her hands together, swallowing nervously.

"Are you telling me that you have no idea where your nephew is?" he asked, and she could have sworn the temperature dropped a few degrees.

"I-I got a letter, from Sirius Black, like Vernon said, just before Christmas, telling me that Harry wouldn't be returning this summer and that we wouldn't need to pick him up."

"Not that we would waste our time waiting for that lazy boy." interjected Vernon.

"Did you not think it odd that I did not contact you myself, regarding this change?"

"After the way he left with your people last summer, I just assumed other _arrangements_ had been made."

"Then I must take my leave. It is of the utmost importance that I find him."

"Would he not be with his Godfather? He is the one who wrote after all."

"I certainly hope not. You see, Sirius Black was murdered, just three and a half weeks ago, by the same people who killed your sister and her husband."

He turned on his heel, robes billowing behind him as he headed for the door, and hung his head as Dudley's voice drifted out behind him.

"Mum, if Potter's not here, who will do the cooking and the cleaning?"

He could only hope that, having been invited to Grimmauld Place prior to Sirius' death, Harry had gone there, and was smart enough to remain there. If it became known that the Boy-Who-Lived was missing, the resulting panic would be just what Voldemort needed to strike.

* * *

He looked up from the letter he was writing as the house informed him of a visitor that he'd expected much earlier, and smiled. He dipped his quill back into the inkwell and finished off his letter, glad that he didn't have to be so formal all the time, and folded the paper to fit the oddly sized envelope he had.

"Really should get more everyday stationary." he thought, writing the address and putting it with the small stack of books he had to send out.

The house gave something of a groan, and he felt magic press forward, trying to break through the wards. He'd expected as much, and he knew the house was more than capable of keeping his visitor busy for at least a few minutes, so he made himself busy wrapping the books in brown paper and tying them up with a bit of string.

"Lord Black-sir," Kreacher said, bowing as he popped into the study, "should Kreacher put tea on for your guest?"

"That won't be necessary, Kreacher. The Headmaster won't be staying long."

"And Lord's other guest? When will he return?"

"I'm not sure when Viktor will be back. His solicitor is in Bulgaria, so I don't expect him before supper tomorrow, and that's if everything goes well."

"Very good, sir."

The house elf disappeared with a small pop, and he rolled his eyes at what was now the third attempt to apparate into the house. A quick inquiry told him that the Headmaster was being set right back outside the door, and that he was currently trying unlocking spells on the wards keeping him from opening the door.

"Time to send this off." he said, holding the package up, "Give Hedwig a nudge to the front door, would you please, friend?"

He made his way towards the front door, nodding to Walburgas' portrait as he passed, and side stepping the troll foot umbrella stand at the base of the stairs. He could see the Headmaster through the sidelight next to the door, and took a steadying breath. They really hadn't made plans for him to tell the Headmaster about the changes to the House of Black without back up, but the current situation really didn't allow him to do much else.

He unlocked the door, the magical locks sliding off as he put his hand to the door knob, and opened the door.

"Good evening, Professor." he greeted, standing tall as the older wizard turned to gaze at him in surprise.

"Harry! Thank goodness you're here." Dumbledore exclaimed, trying to walk past him into the house, only to be cut off by the screech of an owl.

Hedwig flew down and landed on Harry's now outstretched arm, back to the Headmaster, and nipped her masters fingers affectionately. Harry chuckled and cast a shrinking charm on the package before tying it to her leg.

"Take that straight to Hermione, at the Burrow, okay girl?" he said, stroking her head, "Then have a good rest. I'll call if I need you."

She took off with a soft hoot and purposely hit the Headmaster upside the head as she went, and he scrambled to catch his spectacles. It was all Harry could do not to laugh and he turned back inside to hide his small smirk.

"It is not safe out in the open," said Dumbledore, "let us get you inside."

"I assure you, Professor, I'm perfectly safe." he replied, making sure the older wizard felt the wards and locks fall back into place as he locked the door.

"Yes, well, I'm glad I put the wards on Grimmauld Place when I did."

Harry stopped and turned around, leveling the Headmaster with a look as he made to take his cloak off and hang it on the stand by the door. With a sigh he instructed the house to refuse the Headmaster, and the mans' cloak slid to the floor.

"How odd." he said, picking it back up and setting it on the hook, only to watch it fall.

"To what do I owe the visit, Professor?" asked Harry, taking the cloak and hanging it up, causing the other man to frown as it stayed put.

"Visit? No, no my boy, I'm here to collect you and bring you to the Dursleys. Why did you not go there when you got off the train? Surely you understand how dangerous it is for you to be so unprotected."

"As I said, I'm perfectly safe, and I will not be returning to the Dursley house. Ever."

"Nonsense, my boy! Sirius should never have offered to have you for the summer- he knew that-"

The temperature in the house dropped several degrees as Harry turned to glare at the Headmaster, and Albus could feel the house magic react. It was then that he realized just how dark the house was, and looking at the dark colors Harry wore, he put two and two together.

"The House of Black is in a State of Mourning." he stated, "Walburga, my dear, you should not have the power to do this."

The portrait of Sirius' mother snorted and turned away from the Headmaster, looking straight at Harry.

"I do not have to tell you that he is not welcome, do I child?" she said, her voice telling both men what she thought.

"No, Mrs. Black, you do not. He won't be staying long."

Dumbledore followed him into the study, and with a flick of his wand, stopped him from pouring himself a glass of Fire Whiskey. Harry narrowed his eyes at his Headmaster, as if daring him to try and curb him, and removed the bubble charm that the old man had put on the decanter to keep the liquid from pouring out. The amber colored liquid poured into his glass, and he replaced the bottle and top when he'd given himself a satisfactory amount, and moved to sit down at his desk.

"I do not know what you've been up to these last few weeks, my boy, but drinking is not the answer. You are not even of legal age to imbibe alcohol."

Harry settled back in his chair, hoping he looked very comfortable and at ease, when inside his stomach was trying to tell him that the whiskey probably wouldn't stay down very long. He knew he had to be direct, and do it quickly, because if he let the older wizard start talking he'd either lose his temper or his nerve, and neither was going to do him any favors. Taking a small sip of his drink, eyebrow raised in challenge, he readied himself to be the rebel everyone already thought he was.

"I think I'm entitled to a drink in my own home."

"Home? Harry, you must return to the Dursley's. It is the only way that we can protect you."

"I think I've proven, time and time again, that I am capable of taking care of myself."

"After what happened at the Department of Mysteries we must be careful. If Voldemort was to learn that you have left the protection of the Dursley's he will not hesitate to strike."

Harry was laughing on the inside, because Dumbledore kept moving, trying to sit in the high backed chair that normally sat in front of his desk. The house, however, was having a bit of fun with the old wizard, and moving the chair ever so slightly as he made to sit. He could see the confusion and frustration in the old man's eyes, and mentally applauded the house for a job well done.

"The House is in a State of Mourning, Headmaster," he said, setting his drink down and reaching for his quill and the small black journal he'd started keeping after Sirius had asked him to undergo the Rites.

"Yes, and I've yet to figure out how that is."

"Because the Lord said so."

"Harry, the House of Black is currently without a Lord. With Sirius' passing the title should fall to the next of kin."

"It fell to his heir, actually."

He jotted down a few thoughts, mostly about how to he would have to remember to look into the legalities about drinking - was it legal for him, because he was now Lord, and therefore considered an adult, to drink in public? Could he go into the Leaky Cauldron or Madam Rosemertas and order a drink? - and paid very little attention to the older wizard. It would irritate the man, and right now that was all he wanted to do.

"Heir? Sirius had no children, Harry."

"No, he had a Godson."

Dumbledore stopped his pacing, interest in the chair gone as he looked up at Harry, who had replaced his quill and journal and picked up his drink. It was then that he actually took a good look at the boy, and realized that he looked more like a man than a boy.

Dark blue jeans and a deep red form fitted t-shirt under a black zip hooded sweatshirt. His sneakers were new, as was the black belt he wore. Dumbledore couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Harry wear anything 'new'. The longer hair made no sense to him -when he'd seen him three weeks ago, his hair was still short- nor did the lack of glasses. However it was the ring on Harry's left hand that was the most startling, because it should not have been there.

Harry sensed the shock in the old wizard and played with the ring while he threw back the rest of his drink, standing to replace his glass on the mini bar. He debated pouring another glass, but figured that it would loosen his tongue a little too much.

"What have you done?" asked Dumbledore, grabbing his hand and looking at the ring up close.

"Whatever I want." he replied, taking his hand back with a narrowing of his eyes.

"Harry, this is very serious. You should not be able to wear this ring. It belongs to the Lord of the House of Black."

"Yes, it does."

The house magic pulsed around him, warm and steady, its support of him obvious to both men, and Dumbledore saw it for what it really was: a warning.

"How is this possible? The Potter line will not recognize you as heir until you've turned seventeen, and I know for a fact that Sirius and your father were not bound to one another."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, debating with himself, and with the house, just how much he should tell the Headmaster. He decided it best to keep things simple and as straight forward as possible.

"I was named Sirius' heir." he said, watching Dobby pop in and out with his dirty glass.

"When did this happen? There would have to have been a naming ceremony, and for a House this old, that is no easy thing. It would have involved magics you have not yet been taught."

"Thankfully the Blacks believed in being well educated in not only their family history, but in that of all schools of magic."

Dumbledore could say nothing as Harry twisted his wrist and made a sweeping motion with his arm, the curtains drawing themselves closed and a small fire starting in the fireplace to take the chill out of the room.

"Just how bonded to the House are you, Harry?"

His smirk was full of mischief and while he wasn't actually laughing, the Headmaster could see it dancing in his emerald green eyes. It was full of challenge, and pride, and he had never expected to see it on Harry. The way the house magic responded to that look was almost frightening. The shadows in the room grew longer, the walls taller and leaning in at the top, as if they were leering over him, ready to pounce. The fire had changed to a deep blue color, darkening the color of the room, and he swore he heard something growl as the magic of the House pressed in around him.

"Completely."

* * *

The sound of shattering glass echoed through the room so loudly it covered the gasp that accompanied it. He stared at his hand, watching the blood drip trickle to his wrist and then to the pristine white table cloth, but wasn't truly seeing it. He could hear his mother's shout of concern, but she seemed miles away. He turned to her as she ran around the table towards him, but saw only the green and bronze of her magic as it flared in reaction to her worry. He clutched at his gut, curling around himself as he felt something flare and twist and _sing_ as familiar magic bubbled up in him. All the glasses on the table shattered as he tried to ground himself, and he could hear his mother scream as she ducked and covered her head as the crystal chandeliers started to shake and blow apart. The pieces fell like rain, glittering in the light, and slowly started to gravitate towards him. He heard his mother's sharp intake of breath as she watched the glass pile onto itself, moving as if it were a living thing, but as he opened his mouth to ask her what was going on, another flare of magic hit him, an ear-piercing scream tearing out his throat, and he curled into himself tighter.

* * *

He took a step back as the shadows in the room started to shake and the fire blew out, the lights following shortly after. The attack had come so quickly he didn't have time to react, and his magic was struggling to push back, to fight, to show that it was stronger. The Black magic was suffocating, and he was having trouble breathing with the weight of it bearing down on him. It felt as if he were being held under water, at an insane depth, and while he could move it was impossible to surface. He pulled his wand from up his sleeve and cast a quick "_Lumos_", hoping that he'd be able to break this incredible weight…

…Narrow cerulean eyes and a snarl of pearly white teeth were the last thing he had expected to see.

* * *

As the fiery pain slowly ebbed away and his vision cleared, he could feel something staring at him. The lights dancing before his eyes weren't because of the pain, he realized, but rather the way it was being reflected through the thousands of shards of glass that formed what looked like… a dog? The green magic that glowed from where its eyes should have been was very familiar, and his own eyes widened.

The glass beast bowed its head as he sat up, and as a hand reached out for it -despite the protests from his mother- extended its muzzle. He had expected the glass to cut his hand to shreds, but instead it was warm, and soft, cushioned by the magic that had created it. He made to stand, only for his gut to twist painfully. The beast stood, shaking its head, the glass tinkling like small bells as it moved, looking at him as though deep in thought.

"_Züchter__,_" it said, tail wagging.

If he hadn't been caught by another bout of pain, he probably would have noticed that his hand had stopped bleeding, completely healed over, save for a thin raised scar.

* * *

The magic pushed at him, causing his "_lumos_" to dim, and he knew better than to look away from the beast before him. Something in the House changed as the growl turned to what could have been a chuckle, and he dared a glance up at the young man leaning back against the mini-bar, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"_You always did underestimate us, Albus._" said a very familiar voice, and his eyes went wide, "_and then turned a blind eye to the havoc we caused._"

"This is not possible." the old Headmaster breathed, watching as the beast sat next to Harry, who reached down to scratch its ears.

"_Anything is possible, for a Marauder._"

"This is not a game!"

"_You're right, it's not a game. Its __**war**__, Albus, and you've gathered your army, polished them up a bit, and put them behind a __**boy**__. A boy who has done more in his life than most men, and is more than entitled to __**live the life he wants**__. Well now he has the position and the power to make changes, to himself, his House, and perhaps even the world._"

"And how do you expect him to do this? How can a boy, who has had no proper wizarding upbringing, know what is best for one of the oldest of Houses? He needs guidance, and I am-"

"_Why is it that he was raised by his abusive muggle relatives, when surely there was a wizarding family that would have taken him in?_" the beast stood, eyes narrow and teeth bared, stalking around the older wizard, "_Why did you allow him find the Mirror of Erised, if not to remind him of why he was alone? Why did you not fight to prove me innocent, when the __**kids**__ had all the proof packaged up for you -only a bright red bow could have made it easier! Why was it not investigated fully when he was entered in the Triwizard! Why did you distance yourself from him -when he tried to come to you for help!- last year? Was it what was best for Harry, or was it the best way you could think of to mold him into what you wanted?_

"_You're not the one calling the shots anymore, Albus, and when Harry returns to Hogwarts, I expect him to be treated as his station demands, or my next visit will be … less than pleasant._

"_Now get out of my house._"

His "_lumos_" went out, and before his eyes had a chance to adjust to the darkness, the lights flickered back on and the fire roared to life. The beast was gone, and Harry ran a hand through his hair, an eyebrow raised at the Headmaster. He felt his knees go weak, and made to sit back down, but as soon as he would have collapsed into the chair, he felt the all too familiar tug behind his navel that accompanied a PortKey. With a loud pop Grimmauld Place disappeared, and he was spinning away to an unknown destination.

* * *

**To Be Continued…**

**Authors Notes:**

Belated holiday wishes and happy New Years to all! So far it's off to a good start for me- it's a week into the year and I've updated? Yeah, I'm not arguing with the inspirational streak that hit me.

I apologize if the last few scenes were jumpy. They were meant to come across as if they were happening simultaneously and I'm not sure if I conveyed that well enough.

From here on out the chapters will start varying in length. I don't have so much individual pieces to cover now that I'm going to start moving forward with the main plot. The stage for it has been set and now I start having a bit of fun with it.

The German in this chapter (the one word) "_Züchter_" means " 1. breeder; 2. keeper; 3. cultivator", at least according to Google. Please feel free to correct me if I'm wrong and there's a better word/phrase to say it. I'm sure you can guess what it's in reference to, but if not I promise it'll be explained later on in the story.

As always, comments, questions and criticism are welcome, and I very much enjoy hearing what people think is going to happen next.

~Muse


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